In a Bloodless Fashion

The way to a crow’s heart
Is through its feathers
Said my uncle as he squeezed the trigger

Sending a finger tip sized piece of lead
Crashing at the speed of sound
Through breast and bone

He smiled at the silenced cawing
And I made a note to not irritate the man
For other than spite he had no cause

I toed the black bird with my boot
It made no movement
Only seconds before it flew and cried

I gave up hunting that day
And took out a pen to create and kill
In a more bloodless fashion

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About anthonyuplandpoetwatkins

https://www.goodreads.com/AnthonyUplandpoetWatkins born in Jackson, The United States August 04, 1959 gender male website http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?contributorI... genre Poetry, Historical Fiction influences James M. Lancaster, Brenda Black White, Gertrude Stein, William Carlos Williams, and Al Filreis member since March 2011 About this author edit data As one of the most public lives ever lived by a private citizen, there is little about me that isn't already available at Facebook or Shelfari and countless other places. Poet, writer, construction worker, salesman, truck driver, climber into the attics of total strangers, father and husband, and all around one of the luckiest men on the planet. My luck continued with a win in the June Goodreads Newsletter Contest! What an honor! http://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordp... Additional Influences: Bob Dylan, William Faulkner, Barbara Kingsolver, Gloria Naylor, Eudora Welty
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2 Responses to In a Bloodless Fashion

  1. willow rose says:

    This poem is powerful as it shows rather than tells, Anthony. The bullet your uncle sent crashing “through the feathers” to the crows heart implies it nicked your heart that day as well. Instead of killing what makes your heart beat; the bullet brought something deep inside you to life. Your poetry and disgust at senseless killing is what that crow sacrificed its life for, albeit unknowingly, on that never-to-be-forgotten day.
    My favorite line is how vividly you show what kind of man your uncle was as the last line in the third stanza speaks volumes: “For other than spite he had no cause.”
    Everything in this poem was perfectly said!
    Cheers!
    willow

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