By Ray Corvi
The last psychic I went to
Just shook her head and wept
An imminent mistake
The skeletal utilitarian
Costumed in his carrion
Cannot make the trolley brake
She spoke brokenly
If you are dying in a darkened grove
Where manumitted rivers meet the sea
Don’t scare away the angel by the rose
It is still red, too red to be believed
Ray Corvi writes poetry. HIs work can be found in DASH Literary Journal (May 2022), FRiGG Magazine (forthcoming), OPEN: Journal of Arts & Letters (Aug/Sept 2021), The Penmen Review (07/2021), The Seattle Star (07/2021), Neologism, Evening Street Press & Review (forthcoming)and Triggerfish Critical Review (July 2022).