A Sign From the Gods via WhatsApp
My attorney friend messaged me
There is a crow at my office. He sits like a letter on the company marquee
and watches. Well
(I texted back) Did you know ravens come to Odin every day they bring him
the news: how many fires
and so forth
in their blue-black feathers thought and memory overlap
(this smart phone owning mortal holds on
to his screen, fact checking)
there are no ravens in this city.
(I type precisely) your gabardine pockets gleam. Empty them
of offerings: paperclip, wrapper or use your flashlight to show
your heart beneath the couch cushions were you left it
last night, tasting like the gloss slick lips of someone
special. You are usually so good at
sizing up your opponent. These are just birds,
easily scared off and in awe of
what love has done to you. It’s like you have wings
Ashley Oakes
Ashley Oakes lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma, where she works as an academic tutor. Some of her poems have appeared in Westview, Claw+Blossom, Meetinghouse, Unstamatic, Pink Panther Magazine, Cypress Review (forthcoming) and elsewhere. In 2023 she was a finalist for the Patricia Cleary Miller Award For Poetry at New Letters Magazine. More recently, she was a featured author at the 2025 Scissortail Creative Writing Festival at East Central University.