Sunday, June 12, 2022

Black Crow of the Highest Disorder


Her eyes are ice water and hell.

a devil’s handmaid dressed in her

bleakest Sunday best to pass judgement

as if it was holy sacrament.


A black crow of the highest disorder.

she carry’s her book of gossip straight

to the altar and opens her tongue

to foul every prayer.


It is what it is, but never should be.

A thousand hymns can’t be unsung

or sermons lead when there’s no reason to follow.

Her tar feathers can’t teach anyone how to fly.


©Susie Clevenger 2022

The Sunday Muse #214


  1. The high and mighty who think they do no wrong do the most damage. I love so many lines in this powerful poem my friend. I am so glad you are writing Susie. You have such a wonderful talent for speaking the truth with a poetic pow!

  2. She does seem to be burning a bit in her Sunday best. I wonder if that is holy water and could she take a drink of compassion.

  3. A great portrayal of self-righteousness and judgment. Too much of that flying around these days. So well done, Susie. It is always a pleasure to read you.

  4. Don't we all know people like that? Wonderful depiction, Susie.

  5. How lovely to see you, read you! She shouts 'Burn baby burn.'

  6. Love your poem, Susie, welcome back into writing. She's a character with her own measure of negativity!


  7. You have really captured her character in this, Susie!