Crows calling
Circling above
Wind blowing
through the fallow field.
Still standing
Man of straw
Beaks tearing
Sackcloth skin

Ravaged by the elements, A silent sentinel, thankless one

I stand here in an empty field
The stones of broken walls around me
Rooted to the spot, but rootless
Eyes drawn shut, hands aloft
Stitched lips scream silently
Towards the gray and deathless sky
the days and the nights
a blur, for someone like me

keep staring
the skies are open
threads fraying
limbs decay
upon the pole
the cobbled idol stares
prey for black wings
in a field where no one’s there

devil take the soil, rain take my legs, scarecrow . . .

use my bones to build your nest
take my skin to clothe your young
leave the lifeless icon here
but keep me from the fire

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