The Cage

In the waking night The forests have stopped growing The shells are listening The shadows in the pools turn grey The pearls dissolve in the shadow And I return to you Your face is marked upon the clockface, My hands are beneath your hair And if the time you mark sets free the birds And if they fly away towards the forest The hour will no longer be ours Ours is the ornate birdcage The brimming cup of water The preface to the book And all the clocks are ticking All the dark rooms are moving All the air's nerves are bare. Once flown The feathered hour will not return And I shall have gone away.