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Richard Krawiec

 

Dawn and Dusk

 

one by one they reveal themselves, the deer, the crows

bending, pecking the tick-thick grass, the deer, the crows

 

a chimney of steam blossoms thyme oil from a pan

a boy breathes, wheezes, then hacks out a searing rose

 

two centipedes ripple across the bedroom floor

dark clouds of moths flutter the light, draw near like ghosts

 

the dust glitters with silence in the sealed up house

on the father’s face a rising flock of fear grows

 

Lost Richard, you seek symbols, guiding myths, all day

and night, hope to find meaning in the deer, the crows

 

About Richard Krawiec

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