Iridescence, grief with rainbow-sheen,
The colour of doubt. You count our brief tomorrows
Out with cackle-cries at the woes you’ve seen:
“Black, one golden joy; white, two silver sorrows…”
Prophesier: scrying through the carcass,
Augur of our own prey’s flights, alas.
Black haruspex of carrion, carapace;
White witch of precious things, your alias.
For Blair, my very own magpie. Beautiful, ominous and glint-eyed; a soothsayer, dandy and wonder.