Bronson, 1985, by Jessica L. Walsh

A dozen crows face north,
their heads like black compass needles.

Beyond them, green-black clouds spill closer.
Rain spits thick, winds move towards roar,

and still the crows don’t move.

My grandmother pulls me from the porch,
rushes us to the spider-filled cellar I hate.

We wait it out.

Later the yard is rumpled but empty.

I’m sure all the crows died
and I’m just as sure they fled to safety.

In this house everything is true
and nothing is certain. Today’s danger
means dessert with dinner,
as long as I can stay quiet
about the crows.

______________________

Jessica L. Walsh is the author of Book of Gods and Grudges (Glass Lyre, 2022) as well as two previous collections, The List of Last Tries and How to Break My Neck. Her work appears in RHINO, Whale Road Review, MER, and more. Originally from small-town Michigan, she now lives outside of Chicago and teaches at a community college.