This crow, my love, black bird
That flies across my sight,
Hauls my eye beams down
Upon the horizon.
He will not bear my gaze
Above your house, who drew
My vision thin toward
The immense invisibility
Of his possible flight; nor be
Different in your eyes
Because my eyes have held
Black rhythms of his wings.
This bird, then, shall be
A sign between us. We two,
Who mark our distance on
His flight, have marked
Our eyes with his black wings
The bright sun glittered on.
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