Crows, Too, Have a Means of Purring
CROWS, too, have a means of purring. Here is what they do.
They shuffle a deck of cards in their smoking guts.
I shall go into the earth, my child, though my path be blocked
With rocks the size of houses, with gymnasium-sized rocks.
Things subject to mere fashion will be ignored at the Final Judgment.
You will not be made to answer for your morality.
When people walk around naked, they all look like people I know.
My tutor taught me long ago that bodies are all the same.
“The male is caught in a cleft stick.” Better write thát one down.
Love remains sensual, though designed for seraphic;—
And even Madrid, gone to hell and back, can only be trusted
To be chaste insofar as it is consonant with his pride.
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About the Author
Anthony Madrid is author of The 580 Strophes, a chapbook. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in AGNI Online, Iowa Review, LIT, Now Culture, Poetry, 6X6, and Web Conjunction.
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