parallaxis

to albatrosses everywhere

invisible bird flies and i can see its wings in your eyes -

of course i will not feed it;

i don't

mind losing this poem or the tongue

that speaks it, plucked, but less motionless than before

i explain, moving mouth,

silent movie. read my lips, and into the wind.

and even when your wings are suddenly stretched,

i realise you do not understand

and i pray that you will not fly. again.