THE BIRDS THAT EAT IDEAS
(Ptaki Ktore Jedza Pomysty)
The shearwater stays just above
The tops of waves. The air pushes
Their bodies upward inches from
All the ideas of air and water.
Bodies of fire exclaim.
A ball of shining made of ivory,
Made of wood, made of the beaks
Of ten thousand shearwaters.
A scroll unfurls itself, full of allegations
About who gave what gift to whom,
A sliver mine, a pillow full of love
Being wound around sharpened pins forever.
Surely there is a way to keep
These ideas safe. They glow
Like old friendships slowly
Being dismantled by birds
Birds feeding on the soft music
Of believing in things like songs
And the idea that animals can fly.