The crow

where in the name of sweet shat did you go?

Black

like the view 

from a window seat

on the channel tunnel,

or

rather handily koz it rhymes

deepest woe,

& yet with nothing to show

for it

you fucking tit,

you winged bastard feathered shit 

…

(because you’re just)

All corvid & dark

looking absolutely nothing like the Cutty Sark,

pecking

on an ice pop

whilst perched in the park

…

Stay still,

long enough for me to shoot you

…