crow mountain 

i have started to point out potential hiding places.
we drive through the mountains. see the crows
playing video games in a parking lot of
a defunct pizza shop. yellowing plastic sign.
i tell you, "i think we could stay there
if we had to." i keep a running list
of apocalypses that i would want 
to survive & ones i would not. i have been
learning how to talk to the crows.
they have been thinking about the end times
long before we did. in their eggs they all
watch a video about keys. about trying to collect
all the fallen pieces of the sun. this is why
crows are always searching for shiny fragments.
we do not pull over. keep driving. see more & more
flocks of crows. you never respond
when i point out a hiding spot. instead,
you change the subject. you mention hunger 
or the scientists trying to make a wooly mammoth. 
we are both different disciples of resurrection.
the secrets we keep from one another
turn velvet in the dark. i have been letting
the crows in at night. they have been
telling me their doom parables. they say,
"if you do not find enough sun, you will
have to come back again & keep hunting."
i feed them brown sugar. the moon gets
so heavy that it cracks open & releases 
a thousand spiders. my favorite hiding spots
are the hollows i notice in the necks of old trees.
i ask the crows, "will we escape?"
they consult an oracle. the oracle is inconclusive.
spits out barbie shoes & a little toy spatula.
one crow lays an egg & buries it.
i ask him why he's done this. he says,
"the future is full of water." i think we could
fix the roof of the old pizza shop. open the windows
in the afternoon. let the ghosts place checkers.
when the big men come by, turn into crows.
burry our eggs in the silt & loam.