I planted on the page a ream of random words
To grow like seeds, and watered them with wonder lust -
A poet's yearning - but a pair were turned to birds
and flew away; two precious ones, released from dust.
Beyond the prison bars they flew, and I gave chase.
I heard them sing from trees, their trills a waterfall
Whose splash plinked in the pool a rippled wave of lace.
A golden fish arose beneath an egret's shawl,
And her sharp beak stabbed down to pierce the pinioned thought,
Whose writhing golden scales were lifted from my eye.
The cruelty reminded me that beauty's bought
At cost of life when egrets soar and fishes fly.
Yet still, my lovebirds sang to greet the coming dawn.
With stealth I crept and with a net recaptured them,
to cage them once again. No more they sing, forlorn,
For words have clipped their drooping wings. Their eyes condemn
The one who sought to scribe and pinion flight's true worth.
They scratch, uprooting all my seedlings, and I sigh.
They peck the scattered words till all that's left is earth
And my two captured birds. Then, gorged, they also die.
|
