A Crow's Villanelle
by Mahailey Oliver
He likened me to a dove; I likened myself to a crow
that squawks so earnest in the coming light.
He would not let me grow, so I had to let him go.
Does he not know that in the morning’s gentle glow
the dahlia blooms the brightest in the dawning light?
He likened me to a dove; I likened myself to a crow.
He preferred I stick satisfied with the status quo
and never let myself find any semblance of a plight.
He would not let me grow, so I had to let him go.
He wanted gentle sauvignon while I drowned in Bordeaux
and perhaps the dahlia is overshadowed by a daisy’s white
He likened me to a dove; I likened myself to a crow.
I wanted to keep climbing—he, satisfied with a plateau,
pleased with himself to stifle my delight.
He would not let me grow, so I had to let him go.
When the night shall end, he’ll find my spot empty and hollow
as I wander into darkness, chasing every greatest height.
He likened me to a dove; I likened myself to a crow.
He would not let me grow, so I had to let him go.
that squawks so earnest in the coming light.
He would not let me grow, so I had to let him go.
Does he not know that in the morning’s gentle glow
the dahlia blooms the brightest in the dawning light?
He likened me to a dove; I likened myself to a crow.
He preferred I stick satisfied with the status quo
and never let myself find any semblance of a plight.
He would not let me grow, so I had to let him go.
He wanted gentle sauvignon while I drowned in Bordeaux
and perhaps the dahlia is overshadowed by a daisy’s white
He likened me to a dove; I likened myself to a crow.
I wanted to keep climbing—he, satisfied with a plateau,
pleased with himself to stifle my delight.
He would not let me grow, so I had to let him go.
When the night shall end, he’ll find my spot empty and hollow
as I wander into darkness, chasing every greatest height.
He likened me to a dove; I likened myself to a crow.
He would not let me grow, so I had to let him go.
Mahailey Oliver holds an M.A. in English and Advanced Pedagogy from Stephen F. Austin State University in Nacogdoches, Texas. Her work has recently appeared in Hearth & Coffin, Forget Me Not Press, and Spark to Flame. To read more of her work, check out her website: sites.google.com/view/mahaileyoliver.