Park Benches and Polaroids

crows

Three crow caws in a row --

A superstition I read of,

signifying bad events to come.

I was only fourteen

when my mother picked me up from a sleepover

and told me

my father

was in the hospital

for a heart attack.

There were three crow calls the night before.

I am now nineteen:

Months in a row I hear the 

scraping shrieking of

crows.

Ravens,

I hear them call three times

almost every day

and shiver unwillingly.

I have dreams about

mountains splitting in two

smoking, burning fire with

black feathers exploding into the sky

in a rush from the swirling storm of heat.

I know whatever is coming

will hurt.

And I am deeply afraid.