. . . Then Huncke, Then Corso, Then Janine, Then Ira, Then . . . for Laki

by Wayne Atherton

What of the unseen elder
Outlaw rebel death bird

Gazing out from red – rimmed watery eyes
Fraught with indignation, accusing all sleeping
Life with palsied hand

(odd how some noses come to resemble bird beak)

Into whose withering temple will next he light
Beckoning complicit witness

Death bird now nearly departed

Perched overhead, next to that crow