Is it true the bird never flew
beyond the graveyard? I don’t know.
Which bird? This bird sang the hope heard alone
when lonely goes beyond
distance measured from your kept space
to the nearest beautiful skin.
It goes beyond recognizing
repeated words said to say them,
beyond longing for what it is
to hath spoken it, beyond
even there where it’s that close
to the hooked man who looks as far
as he can yet still finds no more
the props to his soul.
Loneliness begins when the salvage
returns you nothing. Loneliness ends
but the other bird never heard that far.