A Kindness of Ravens
by Richard Cheney
“Everybody got to watch the sky turn gray.” This is a feather, fallen from a place where you cannot be, a place inhabited by deep sleep from which one does not awaken. Icarus Huxley feared its November sky, cleaved by an unkindness of ravens, a cloud of black wings flying as one hunting for anyone willing to dare congress with the shadows of a place of the dead where the air and the sky are free.