Magical Dangers

[saansaturday]

Crow thought of a palace--
Its lintel crashed on him, his bones were found.

Crow thought of a fast car--
It plucked his spine out, and left him empty and armless.

Crow thought of the wind's freedom--
And his eyes evaporated, the wind whistled over the Turkish Saddle.

Crow thought of a wage--
And it choked him, it was cut unspoiled from his dead stomach.

Crow thought of the soft and warm that is long remembered--
It blindfolded him with silk, it gangplanked him into a volcano.

Crow thought of intelligence--
It turned the key against him and he tore at its fruitless bars.

Crow thought of nature's stupor--
And an oak tree grew out of his ear.

A row of his black children sat in the top.
They flew off.

Crow
Never again moved.

Ted Hughes