Young Crow


On the rough grate fire escape,
your spare remains.
I’ve seen you there three weeks now
feathers black oily and outspread
in supplication.

I pass and do not look,
remember the time I stared,
saw traces of wit and game
about your face.

         I thought of the comic magpies
          Heckle and Jeckle from old time TV;
         not like you, really.
         They had steady jobs,  
         benefits: actors’ union, 
         good retirement. 

You flew free and unencumbered
your whole young life,
scavenging the riverbanks
and rooftops.  

Now I only want
to scoop up and cradle
your teacup skull
in my naked palm.
Life is the greed
that swirls around food
and love. 
What else is there
to fly and die for?



Mary Imo-Stike was born and raised in Rochester, NY. She worked non-traditional jobs as a rail worker, construction plumber, boiler operator and gas company Compliance Officer. When retired from work-life, she obtained an MFA in Poetry from West Virginia Wesleyan College in 2015, was the poetry co-editor of HeartWood Literary Magazine for 2 years. Her debut chapbook, In and Out of the Horse Latitudes is due in March of 2018. Mary lives in Scott Depot, West Virginia, with her husband John and dog Howie.