*** Published in 2019 Anthology 'More of Us'. Congratulations Reza! ***

We be pack of crow. Black bird perched upon scorched branch. Perched upon broken

building. Perched upon snapped wire. Perched upon this doomscape.

We be pack of crow. Watched as bomb fell. Crow flew. Man could not fly. Man could not

outrun it. Now it is all nest. Now it is all feed. Bodies of rotting and burnt flesh; once among

living, but now just feed.

We be pack of crow. Watched as man burnt. Woman, child, infant, all burnt. Shadows etched

into wall, as blinding light destroyed all.

We be pack of crow. Pick clean corpses. Woman’s necklace. Child’s buttons. Man’s watch.

All that was once of value, brought back to crow’s nest.

We be pack of crow. Hay men in fields never inspired fear in pack of crow. Hay men did not

kill or maim sheep. Hay men stuck to ground just as rows of corn they watched over. Arms

stuck out for crow to rest. Farmers… men… were crow’s source of fear. All past now. Rows

of slowly rotting corn. Farmer’s eyes blue as sky – now black and dull – all feed… all feed.

And when time for slumber comes, stars are once more seen. No more light but moon and

stars. All buildings fallen. All noise suffocated. Just pack of crow, left to crow and crow and crow…