What if there were two moons or maybe even three, what if this crow was an envoy from the realm of the moon, and what if that country were golden, except for the sky and the ruts across the field? If we urge our mule forward, we will enter into the frame of the picture and drive the crows before us. As I have often stated, crows are a set of kitchen knives. Somehow they’ve learned to fly.
Robert McDonald’s work has appeared previously in Columbia Poetry Review, Sentence, Court Green, PANK, and Escape Into Life, among many other journals and zines. He lives in Chicago, and works at an independent bookstore.