Raven

The raven hovers near,
while his jackal
beckons my return.

But I've lived on the thirteenth floor
with its mossy-covered
hollowed walls,
withered vines
without thyme.

And now I've no desire
to be abandoned again
like a moon
on a starless night
stuck in oblivion
with no where to turn.

I'd rather suffer the fires
of hell
then to live a life on the
thirteenth floor.

Robert Allison
14/01/79

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