overhead the streak of a comet
the scratch of a fingernail exposing the gold of heaven,
inside us the hard black stare of a bird
following its path, in our minds; inseperable
from the fire destroying itself
 
we feel its struggle against the suffocating curve of the sky;
like a shining child smothered on its mothers breast
we hear the cries from its golden throat
as it rebounds from the walls,
 
we sense a desperate wingbeat like a fluttering heart,
hear it dissolve into the night while all around us, inside us
the wind howls and the stones weep dust.
 
overhead the streak of a comet
the scratch of a fingernail exposing the gold of heaven,
inside us the hard black stare of a bird