OUR AUNT’S ORCHAD CROWS
A ‘crow’ sound poem | 2019
Free verse is my least favourite type of poetry to write. My favourite? The kind with made up silly rules. It takes my mind to places I wouldn’t have otherwise gone.
With this poem, I challenged myself to only use words that sound crow-like.
This piece was recognised as a standout poem during my creative writing degree.
OUR AUNT’S ORCHARD CROWS
Carping out about the orchards,
I call to our aunt and her kitchen orchids.
A sharp shout charms a raw bark in rebound.
A stark contrast from past dark
when instead I harken to calm psalms she’d chant.
Now stenches of sauerkraut hatch a qualm.
Cackle of pork crackle, trace of cask port.
I gawk at the scar that mars her neck
from chained shark tusk under my uncle’s scruff.
Dare I ask and douse the spark she’d gathered at last?
Recall the raucous act that broke her?
When stars choked and abandoned to darkest claw?
Rather I ignore and gnaw in bashful blackout?
She packs a scarf around her scored hack.
I depart to her garden’s balmy air
skulking with the crows in sulk
to have my jocose aunt back.