All day I have been
one transparent hand
praying to the other
avoiding the insolence
of empty elevators.
Now it is evening
and a sparrow searches through
popcorn and dog manure
trying to make this
one last trip worthwhile.
Tree! Tree! The wind
has left you forever.
You lean against dry air
like the ghost of yourself.
You are up to your knees
in the earth and dying
faster than birds realize.
It must be some kind
of salvation. With my veins
aching for the knife I arrive
at the communion of strangers.
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