Before I Was Crow

Steve Evans

I rode the horse sitting backwards.

I remember that.

No one taught me.

Contrary, absolute,

touched by another kind of knowing.

Then as bird,

my feathers were fine as the brush

of wind on your skin,

though I would not touch you.

Before I was crow

I was something I forget.

There were dust, bones, time.

Who dreamt me?

Though my hand sat lightly

on the curve

of the future of you,

I wanted more.

I always wanted more.

I was darkness, too much.

Hand, or feather and wing.

One and the other.

Sometimes they seem

like the same thing

visiting me over and over,

with no way out.

---

Steve Evans teaches creative writing. He writes poetry, prose and nonfiction, is a literary editor for an international journal, and prose editor for an Australian journal. He has been on organising committees for seven literary festivals, writer-in-residence internationally several times, and on arts funding and literary prize panels. He has published seven poetry collections and edited or co-authored five other books, and also won various prizes. Easy Money (short stories) was released in 2019 and Animal Instincts (poetry) is due out in 2020.

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