The augurs have retreated
to the temples and caves of history.
Nobody, now, watches the birds’
turning in flight, their wind-traceries,
or listens to the tempo of their songs.
Nobody examines for omens the seeds
and bones left in their droppings,
leaving the will of the gods mute.
The word-grinders smile as they speak
from podiums, and the oracles babble.
Goldfinches squawk, too small for their crowns.
Somebody should call the ravens.
Call them back to the cliffs, the mounds, the sea.
The future unwinds around us, sheer and black.
Anya Silver has published four books of poetry, most recently From Nothing (LSU Press, 2016) and Second Bloom (Cascade Books, 2017). She has been published in many anthologies, including Best American Poetry 2016. Silver teaches at Mercer University and lives in Macon, Georgia, with her husband and son.