"To Think of Rope"

THE CROW SPEAKS WITH A SHROUDED TONGUE
- an incessant sound -
As he licks his fingers...

(he does not care; he saw it coming)

And now, father lies still with broken eyes--
As the children inquire...

"Is he sleeping, mama? He told me he was tired."

Tears shed down spoiled cheeks,
Mother says she doesn't
know.

Grieving colors of monotone men,
And the faces of solemn women look on.

They are frightening.

And when the little ones ask who will push their rope swing,

Mother can't bear to think of rope.