Are you dying? I asked the bird
on the sidewalk. No, he said,
I forgot where the wind is. But
are you dying? I asked as the
bright kernel of his eye dimmed.
Yes, he confessed, I am dying.
Where will you go? I asked,
feeling grief beyond reason. There
is nowhere to go, he said, and his
wings fluttered and were still,
what would you bear more than
this? And he turned his head, and
the sky bit down on something
hot and red.