To The Raven In The Kitchen Sink

As if you understand water
the fundamental principles of spinning
in the kitchen sink. You creature

of flight, you with your black wing
swimming. Did you fly in the dark by a chair
wondering if night had come early,
if the moon had disappeared?

And when you came through the window
were you fearful or merely
seeking refuge,

a home. Feathered fish
beautiful creature, dying there

in my mother’s sink. My mother
who is really not gone
but off swimming somewhere.