Sopra. Left reaches over right. Starlings. Lightning. Who are we now?
Corpus ex avibus. Avis in re. In all this rain
sun rises over your private temple.
What you see is your fate:
the arcane law scribbled in every rock.
What you hear is your body,
trying carefully not to make mistakes.
Was it take off my shoes or put on square and compass;
to step through. Catafalque. Crawling bone and fur,
the terrible susurrus where animals have all escaped their names.
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