every morning, birds;
I watch them fly by,
their wings desperately
reaching for each other
as I breathe in the scent
of roses and mustard.

the cup of coffee is warm
in my hands and I feel the
slight pulsation of my veins,
my arteries, my capillaries—
the birds, I hear them for
just a moment, I see the
black outline of their small
bodies before they disappear
behind the giants that sleep
in my city(those tall, unmoving
giants that obscure my vision

of the sun and put my whole
being into darkness, those
damned giants built by man)

I close my eyes tightly and then
open them again, as if this will
bring those creatures back,
the animals with the bones
as hollow as air, the curved
bodies, the cautious eyes.

((teach me how to fly, bird))