Andrew McFadyen-Ketchum


A trio of crows followed him all that afternoon
Through the canyonlands of Utah’s Fiery
Furnace, a place people go to get lost
Because they believe they will be found.

From the salt-white peaks of the hoodoos,
The crows trumpeted and hawked. Backlit
By the sun, wings closed or splayed before the gray
Day moon, the crows sputtered and cawed.

He knew they hoped he’d either drop food
Or become food, yet, still, he felt
Somehow…Protected? Companioned?
Watched over no matter the way.

Is this all I desire? he wondered
As he squeezed through a slot in stone.
Anyone, anything, to watch over us,
No matter their will, their intent, or skill?

Is that all I need, he asked the crows’ shadows,
The high cliff faces, the sun going down
As he pondered turning back—Any manner of flight
No matter how wrecked or rapt its wings?

0-21ANDREW MCFADYEN-KETCHUM is an award-winning author, editor, ghostwriter, & producer. He is author of two poetry collections, Visiting Hours and Ghost Gear; Acquisitions Editor for Upper Rubber Boot Books; Founder and Editor of and The Floodgate Poetry Series; and professor of creative writing at Colorado Community College.

Other works
Another World
Whooping Crane

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