by Jason Alan
The raven cried out, “Nevermore!”
Somewhere I had heard this before.
I had planned to retire for the evening,
until I saw it’s eyes, dark and foreboding.
His stark black feathers, ripe with age.
Those haunting eyes again, unleashed and enraged.
I asked of it to leave, holding my
fears for a moment.
But the raven was merely silent.
“Go away! SHOO!”, I said.
But the bird remained as silent as the dead.
And just as I thought of racing for the door.
Dick Cheney shot it and it fell to the floor.
What? I think Poe would be proud…