Monday Feature by Michaela Kahn–Poem “Winter’s King”

Winter’s King 
 
What hangs just touching 
the day’s last pewter:

a crow’s black feather,
smoke, untraceable.
 
His face is always
torn, his scent among
decomposing leaves.
 
Snow will come,
fill the space between trees,
sift down through fingers and needles to
brush my eyelids.
 
I give him my name.
I cup him into my gloved hands.
 
He hangs in last light
at the edge of the wood,
among the wild turkeys,
foraging for seed.

2 thoughts on “Monday Feature by Michaela Kahn–Poem “Winter’s King”

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