Noire

 /   /  By Emma Birches
Stone Soup Magazine
March/April 2012

By Jonah O’Hara David

A crow or raven
against the black night.
A cry from a lone child.
A smooth dark rock
thrown at you.
A dot, sweet, warm,
and black on your tongue.
A musty smell,
revolting at first,
sweet afterwards,
though too quick to catch.
Scented like a black horse.
At first sight,
A child tattered,
crying, and though silent
makes the loudest sound.
It is a whinny heard in the distance.
It’s something or someone you love
Who
Dies.
That’s Negro.

Noire Jonah O’Hara David

Jonah O’Hara David, 10
Norman, Oklahoma

About the Author

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