The rain sliding past a raven’s wing.

For Sheri Frushay.

Black cowboy hat pulled down
low over her brow, black hair
piled high upon her
and her fingers
dancing along the
steel frets like
a white witch casting
magic spells of healing

and of grace, and in the

rough edges of her song,
the years and miles
scratch the night

like a razor blade
against a tin ashtray,

her blues a whistle of
wind and rain sliding
past a raven’s wing,

as she splits a cloud,

refusing to land,

flipping off the storm and

chasing rainbows in the gloom.



Copyright 2019 by Sean Rima.

“Poems” by Sean Rima to be released May 11 by Lulu Press.

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