Lost Blackbird

BLACKBIRD

How sharp your beak tongue cuts

And your bamboo arms work and work

Hurling handfuls of rocksalt hard at me

It is over, if you needed a sign

Look at my straining leash

Look at the carpet worn with the pacing

Look at your pumping veins

bubbling with heat

Look at your poor clawed hands

Look at the shot of us kissing and laughing

Like only those in love can do

See how old that makes you feel

Look at our walls

Bowed in pity