Wrote this today.
Crow in Training
condemned so many times/to be a crow
Claribel Alegría, “Ars Poetica”
The first time the caw-caw surprised me so much
that I dropped it like a burning stick. Second time
I repeated the cry with my head cocked to a side,
to better determine the iridescence of its report.
Just before the third boy fell on his rifle, a bullet
through his eye, I emitted so full and round a call
that the grizzled veterans coughed approvingly.
I counted off my triumphs of the day, seventeen
—there were many of us cadets in the gathering.
The murder thinks my performance is promising.