– 24 –

The last word

One day I saw
a bird flying

Without strings

Without wire

Without obvious attachment.

There were no instruments
to measure altitude

No fine pencil-marks made
by engineers when constructing
the elegance of machinery.

It was as though the sky
was not blue and empty
but filled by patterns

One of which was
cleaved like strong wind
by soft paper.

All I have wanted
is to ache for words
as clean as that.