On “On the First of March, Crows Begin to Search” by Kay Sage
All animals wait, in their animal way—
the cicadas for seventeen years,
impossible and underground. We
thought the trees were screaming.
Spiders, too, are patient, becoming
fisher and line for whatever comes their way.
Turtles incubate to hatch before plodding to sea.
Our dogs wait to be fed.
But on the first of March, crows
begin to search. Is it you they
are looking for? I see them,
men in coats, bobbing and furtive.
I want to call it murder, when
a tunnel in the brain blows out. I could
tell the crows it's done, it's over.
Your body went to ash while
mine got fat on funeral casserole.
I grow tender with no gentleness.
I am all distended udder.
But let them, let the crows keep searching.
They have waited this long.
the cicadas for seventeen years,
impossible and underground. We
thought the trees were screaming.
Spiders, too, are patient, becoming
fisher and line for whatever comes their way.
Turtles incubate to hatch before plodding to sea.
Our dogs wait to be fed.
But on the first of March, crows
begin to search. Is it you they
are looking for? I see them,
men in coats, bobbing and furtive.
I want to call it murder, when
a tunnel in the brain blows out. I could
tell the crows it's done, it's over.
Your body went to ash while
mine got fat on funeral casserole.
I grow tender with no gentleness.
I am all distended udder.
But let them, let the crows keep searching.
They have waited this long.
Nadia Arioli (nee Wolnisty) is the founder and editor in chief of Thimble Literary Magazine. Their work has appeared or is forthcoming in Spry, SWWIM, Apogee, Penn Review, McNeese Review, Kissing Dynamite, Bateau, Whale Road Review, SOFTBLOW, and others. They have chapbooks from Cringe-Worthy Poetry Collective, Dancing Girl Press, and a full-length from Spartan.
Art: Public Domain