She didn’t really have flesh

No eyes

No heart

No bones

 

It was hard to believe

That she even existed

Sometimes it was easier

To imagine that her children

Fell from the sky

 

She never spoke

But her voice would get into your head

And she would say things

Like

I love you

Goodbye

 

You could search 

your own face

Maybe you could find her there

Just for a fleeting moment

She would catch your eye

 

The black dog ate her up

Sneakily taking

Little nibbles at her mind

Before consuming her soul

 

There was nothing left

The greedy dog stole everything

Leaving her children to fight

The crows. 

Clare Kinnaird, 2024.