I am a bird cage,
a cage of bone
containing a bird.
This bird is death which makes
his nest in my bone cage.
When nothing is happening,
one hears the fluttering of his wings,
and when one laughs loudly,
then suddenly stops laughing,
he can hear it call
like a little bell.
It's a bird held captive,
inevitable death in my bone cage.
Wouldn't he like to escape,
and is it you that would return
or is it me,
what is it that
it couldn't leave
after it's eaten away
my heart
the source of blood
with life inside—
It will always hold my soul in its beak.