Fable

When the crow fell in love
with a scarecrow
the possibilities seemed endless.
Such strangers,
they could teach each other.
Crow was not afraid
and scarecrow,
though dressed like a working man,
had nothing better
to occupy the time.

Actually there was little
they could do--
with scarecrow staked out
in the corn,
fastened to a silly grin,
wearing clothes that once belonged
to a real person.
Only tatters now,
an imperfect skin trying to contain
innards of straw,
the hay spilling out.

That bird sits on one shoulder,
cocking her head to the side,
Crow, bright-eyed,
glossy-feathered.
Know the way rainbows thrive
in the black shine of oil?

Raucous bird
thinks she can sing.
Scarecrow seems pleased,
unable to cover its ears
or change its expression.
Easy critic dances in the breeze
while the blackbird whispers
notes toward a song.

Harryette Mullen is Professor of English and Afro-American Studies at the University of California, Los Angeles, where she teaches African-American literature and creative writing. She is the author of four poetry books, including Trimmings (1991), S*PeRM**K*T (1992), and Muse & Drudge (1995). Her critical book on slave narratives Freeing the Soul is forthcoming from Cambridge University Press.

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