Crow writes a letter to Sparrow

by PETER  GRANDBOIS

I have a will in me that doesn’t stop
	when it snows, and forget April 
breeding Lilacs, my mind breeds
	a flurry of worries about how 
the field neither begins nor ends 
	before the sun rises behind the hills
And the wind doesn’t make things easier,
	blowing through leaves as if
it doesn’t believe in time.
	I wish I could be simple like you and 
dream about trees lining the road
	Did you know I’m still afraid 
of butterflies, their long-curled tongue
	how it seeks always for what it needs?
Tell me how you avoid the grave 
	of suns that just keeps falling
What do you do evenings when
	you return to an empty house? 
We can’t expect more than a few signs 
	of having been around, and now snow 
is falling into the river, and 
	the pines aren’t speaking to anyone,
and forgive me, but I can’t say what’s
	inside my head. The war is everywhere.

From Issue 11

PETER GRANDBOIS is the author of fourteen books, the most recent of which is Domestic Bestiary. His plays have been performed in St. Louis, Columbus, Los Angeles, and New York. He is poetry editor at Boulevard and teaches at Denison University in Ohio. You can find him at http://www.petergrandbois.com.