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.