Tuesday, August 30, 2011

the ravens have eaten her heart

I've been thinking about the ravens, lately. They are starting to drift back into town, slowly, as the gulls and other summer birds line up their baggage and head for milder climates. This brought me back to a series of raven poems I wrote a few winters ago, and I decided to revisit just a few of them, one by one. Here is where it begins.


the ravens have eaten her heart

see how the thunderhead pounds
its coveted earth
heavy-handed as a jealous lover

just as the roiling sea loves the beach
against which it rails, raking angry
finger-marks through soft mounds of
care-tossed grains, silica and shell

Rachel Westfall
November 28, 2008

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Mage fire

You drew sacred fire
from that place deep inside me
where I thought I had it well
enough hidden, tamped
down to conceal treacherous smoke.

Now I howl for you,
chase you, hunt you down to find
more of that same magic,
magic that feeds deep hungers
that I had thought gone.

Rachel Westfall
August 12, 2011

Friday, August 12, 2011

dead promises

You’re the broken edge of a dream,
shattered by the abrupt intrusion
of the early morning alarm, shrill
and persistent. Roses wither

in the ice of your breath,
petals receding, clutching tight
about the bud like a tearful
school girl’s slender arms.

Dead promises are your nectar,
dripped in the dark of night
onto the hungry ground,
then lapped up by the dawn.

Rachel Westfall
August 12, 2011