I am the girl who talks to crows

I am the girl who talks to crows
A gift bestowed by collecting molted feathers
Glossy jet discarded in the grass
Barbicel weakened and no longer adhering
I trace Corvus onto my hip bones
A hundred times over with each one


I tell them my secrets
Knowing they keep them as their own
They recognize my face
As I approach with gaze averted
And they teach their young that I am safe


They do not speak back
Instead they leave me gifts
Small things carelessly discarded by humans
I tuck them in jacket pockets
Because I believe they bring me luck
Some of them sparkle in sunlight
Tiny fascinations


I sit among them
Unshelled peanuts in a circle around me
They land nearly silent
All at once
Like they practiced it


They hear the names of those who've betrayed me
The crimes committed out of fear
Because I could break the bonds that held me
Beaks chatter in anguish
The clacking raising the hairs on my forearms
I know what they are thinking


Murder