by Blaise Allen

The half-dead baby crow rescued and released
came back to me in a dream. He was six
feet tall, sleek feathered, shining blue.
He wanted to kiss me with gratitude
but his beak was too long and sharp.
Each time he pecked my cheek, he’d draw
blood, get tangled in the nest of my hair.
Happy for company, tucked in the hinge of his wing,
I didn’t complain. He clucked his crow songs
and sang loud into the morning. He sang across
synapses until I understood, he was here
to return the favor.


Blaise Allen, Ph.D., is The Director of Community Outreach, The Palm Beach Poetry Festival. Her poems have been published in literary anthologies and magazines including: The American Journal of Poetry, Pink Panther Magazine, South Florida Poetry Journal, Long Island Literary Review, Clackamas Literary Review, East End Elements, Naugatauk River Review, Blue Fifth Review, Long Island Quarterly, and Mothering Magazine. Blaise bridges her passion for social welfare and the arts through community engagement, and project management.