Perched

It sits perched on a branch

and all that can be

made done is waiting.

Waiting for a victim;

a passer by or the plain

old helpless to be watched

with peeled eyes. To be

stalked on, stared upon

and to gaze deep inside you.

The black beasts of the night.

Their wings and sharp

vicious beak fade into

every inch of darkness.

And their reflecting glossy

black eyes are a

collision of beautiful

and horrific emotions.

Is a blackbird man

or beast?