by Najka Altazy
To other birds,
a crow’s a rainbow gem.
A drag queen (drab to unmagnetic eyes)
whose pageantry (flamboyance in disguise)
makes prisms
in an onyx diadem.
It's smuggled furtively in weeds of death.
We cross this interspecies border line.
Catastrophe’s revision
realigns our sight to ultraviolet
shibboleths; (just so)
I see you grieving in my grief.
Survivor's guilt
has quilted us with flair.
A laser light show
limns distracted stares.
Our tears apply a secret golden leaf.
Our grating cawws aren't meant to disrespect;
they're music in the mourner's dialect.
Najka Altazy has been an archivist and librarian at America's largest archive, the world's biggest museum complex, and the most extensive repository of Shakespeare-related materials in the universe. He lives in Alexandria, Virginia with a lady, a girl, and a boy, only one of whom is a dog.
Emerge Literary Journal 