The Raven

We'd joked about transformation before,
A man wakes up to realise his wife has always been a train.
But I woke up a raven today, ashamed, hiding my beak in my breast.
Will this be the end of us?
You didn't think you could love me the same if
I were a train, and I know love,
That you're afraid of birds.
It got bad fast. By twelve
I was licking old bones and the bath was full of milk and broken biscuits
And I was lying every time the phone rang,
Which didn't come easy at all. I know
I've wished for change,
Every day I've wished for change,
But now this means there must be a God or a magic.
Anyway, I meant a scanty change,
Like seeing the world through lace instead of watery clarity.
Today I am a bird,
And everything is so stressful. Will
I get ticks? Those tiny red spiders?
Will I be ostracised in pecks tomorrow if I wear
A little shiny something around my neck?
I don't want to meet them.
I will just stay here until I die of weakness.
This is my punishment for
Wanting to know the truth,
I'm sure of it.