Descent
After coming down, after
not flying, turning from
a bird into a man
in all realities there was a change
at which moment perspectives
slid like glass doors or
the opening brass tubes of a
telescope and in that action
I was at once bound to earth
and free to soar.
The bird dreamed it was human,
could not lift clear, drift out
across the city roofs and blue sea;
but that was a dream and
the shell is not yet broken.
The bird is waiting.
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