NIGHT SONG

Where does a song fly in the dark?
Just before twilight
a flock of crows goes crazy in the trees,
trying to memorize the day
so they can bring it back black
before dawn.

The little neighbor boy says
you’ve got to grab a feather on the wing,
bring it down crow and all,
bake it into a pie
and say grace over it: “Here’s
the sweet sing-song, eat.”

For the cook at her provisions,
even the space between a refrigerator
and the sink is song:
the dishwater full of leftover bits
of dinner and glossy-
gray suds.

Which is the song? Both the knife
and the carved crow;
the sucked-dry feathers and the still-
hungry mouth; the tune-
bitten air and the caws
of blessing.




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