Dead Eyes

Grandpa shot a crow
From the tree
Outside my room.

It steals the food

Of other birds and animals
And has an annoying caw
Grandpa said.

It lay dead in the grass

Under the tree
Its black eyes open
Unseeing.
I bent over it
Mesmerized by its
Dead
Eyes.

That was sixty years ago
And I still see those
Dead
Eyes.

I have seen scores of
Dead
Eyes
Since.
Human
Eyes.

But the first

Dead
Eyes
I ever saw
Were a crow’s.

That dead crow

Is still taking things…
My shock over
Dead
Eyes.

Maybe grandpa knew

Others were coming
So I needed to get used
To seeing so, so many
Dead
Eyes.