Sport 25: Spring 2000
The last word
The last word
One day I saw
a bird flying
Without strings
Without wire
Without obvious attachment.
There were no instruments
to measure altitude
No fine pencil-marks made
by engineers when constructing
the elegance of machinery.
It was as though the sky
was not blue and empty
but filled by patterns
One of which was
cleaved like strong wind
by soft paper.
All I have wanted
is to ache for words
as clean as that.