A Restless Facing
The crow flies the darkness without wings,
the sun whitened its face and departed the trees
like a red king wed celestial in lion blood.
I am unground from the earth,
burned like the bird flamed from cliffs of saltpeter.
Beneath the expanding tents I searched for words
to purify myself, but you did not appear.
In a dream I saw you garbed like an aurora queen
poised on a throne in the eye of the crow.
Into a restless facing of lords
we are summoned by prayer,
though I still warp on the shores of your agony.
--John Swain lives in Louisville, Kentucky. His chapbooks, Prominences and Sinking of the Cloth, appeared from Flutter Press and Set Apart Before the World Was Made appeared from Calliope Nerve Media. Full of Crow published his ebook, The Feathered Masks. His work has received nominations for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and Best of the Web.