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Two Ton Boa
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Serenade for the Crow That Fell
Coyotes prowling in the yard
Howling around your trembling house of cards
A serenade for the crow that fell
Like a drop of oil into your virgin well
Some hook has burrowed in your skin
There's a deserate clawing as the itch sets in
For a preacher's daughter you're an easy mark
For the metal vultures in the parking lot.
The sticky hum of clicking tongues has dropped
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Their ticking clots of concrete in your mind's metallic slots
Like words descending in an inky swarm
To hammer down the flutter of your paper arms
The flames that lick you in your easy chair
And the smoking fingers in your burning hair
Are the exorcisms of a dirty girl
Ripping demons from her holy pearl
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