Donnie Darko, by Matt Sadler

I want to talk about the last time
crows talked to you from
the dying maple in the front yard.
I want to talk about light.
At the right angle of incidence
light can bounce off you and onto
another planet.  Into a new
dimension.  Black holes
attract everything and let nothing
stress, not you, not hope
or photons or radiences.
Everything fills them.  Their
skin and feathers a sheen not
reflection but from excesses
within.  Did you see the crow?
An unearthly gash against
the scraggly bark, seize and
shudder with fullness, twitch
expand, feathers glowing
against the sun,
before unfolding its wings
and lighting out across the yard?
Do you remember where it landed?
The roof of the shed?
The wreck of grapevine
draped over the phone wires?

Matt Sadler is the author of Tiny Tsunami (Flying Guillotine) and The Much Love Sad Dawg Trio (March Street). He lives in the suburbs of Detroit with his family.