Spec

by Mehreen Ahmed

the morning crow sits on the ledge.

its wings were wet and heavy with pledge.

it promises to clean up the world at its worst.

that, a huge task the world on it has thrust.

it only has a tiny beak but is ravenously hungry.

the sandy beach is replete with corpses looking grumpy.

of course they’re, these’re bodies, but what harm can they bring?

can they bid farewell? can their sorrows sing?

but they sing all right to the crow.

who beaks the corpses to the bone to make it glow.

we maybe dead to the world and you

our bones will never be in florescence blue.

history will record.

as the bones decode.

stories of us they shall tell.

how we live until the sound of knell.

the long and the short of it.