Crows

The sea no longer shimmers
And every dinghy has left for shore
On the beach I watch crows fight over the husk
Of a discarded ice cream cone
You haven’t spoken in an hour
The novel you’re reading must really be riveting
I finger my wedding ring while
Black birds continue to squawk and squabble
I want you to notice it without my telling
But you don’t, you never do
You are someplace else
Somewhere distant and imagined
With characters who hold your interest
And keep you satisfied
Though the ocean, the sand
And the setting sun
Were entirely your idea

Len Kuntz is a writer from Washington State, an editor at the online magazine Literary Orphans, and the author of I’m Not Supposed to Be Here and Neither Are You, out now from Unknown Press. You can also find him at http://lenkuntz.blogspot.com.

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One Response to Crows

  1. Ryan Stone says:

    Wow! Beautifully captured, Len. Stunning.

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