WITHOUT

My words are birds with merciless hearts.

Muffled, the blood beats in the throat. Look:

when I arrive, I have no wings,

when I leave, I lose my core.

Instead of your body – a halo,

as round as a bird’s eye, as light as an old scar.

The words are a compass. Old magnet

over the steel of unerodable time.

Silently – I said – beats the blood.

Silently it stops.