Singularities

Poetry by Christian Ward

Every blackberry is a black hole.
Does that sound right? Every blackbird
is a carrier of night. What gestates
in their stomach is a staccato
of the day's longing – all filigree
and verdigris once caught in the batea
of a fox’s eye. What's sifted out
is starlight in a sonata of gravitational
waves. The berries ripen. The brambles
warp their own microcosm,
feathers…