The sky flashes with crows: a great storm approaching 

by Alicia Mooney-Flynt

Black Birds Flying by Fritz Ward
Photo by Fritz Ward. Used with permission.


Grandfather, a bent
man, spotted and rank with age,
explained once why the cat pawed
a mole for hours before killing it.
Its tricks bait the cat,
trapped by his swelling chest,
breathing in his gamy breath.

The memory hovers
and tears as the crows round
toward a scab of trees,
a cat lingering below.

Soon the sky clears to bone. My bones
shift and hum in the distance.



Alicia Mooney-Flynt currently lives, works, and dreams in North Carolina. Her poems have been read in Florida Humanities, Poet Lore, Shot Glass Journal online as well as others.

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