nebula

 
and then there I go chasing the wind
birds on the shoulders of statues
orange leaves on the ground stones

and so there I go after the migrating birds
I throw crumbs of letters I didn't write
my limbs being torn apart by the scavengers

and so there I go on the wings of birds in the wind
in spirals of feathers that are not your eyes
my claws digging into my statuesque neck.

PAR