Build the crow fold high —
High enough to block out the sunlifted air
From one side, and on the other, to
Picket-in the shadows of the bodies

Upon bodies upon bodies,
Giving up their flesh to the dull beak,
Easy as a missing prayer —
Each piece nourishing the crows
As each added body nourishes that which you are —
A builder of great crow folds …

Though crows have been known
To live equally as fruitfully
In folds of twig and of bramble,
In bell towers and in ruined bell towers,
And in nests made of wire clothes hangers
When you turn your shoulder
And walk away.

[Inspired by the Táin Bó Culaigne.]

[Seán Carabini is an author based in Lucan, Ireland, He has published travel memoirs, short stories, poetry and has worked as an editor. He is a former chairperson of the Irish Writers’ Union.]