The friendly attendants lead me to my cage.
I have air, water & newspaper lining the base.
Windows struggle with the light.
Call from my comfortable containment to the eagles
above a car storage lot next door — all new with
their wipers pulled out from the windscreens
like the antennae of snoozing cockroaches.
There’s a hint of ant nest
out on Mavoor Rd
A bit of beetle in the stalls selling phone accessories.
Those eagles hardly ever seem to land…
this weave of air they inhabit
while commerce crawls & crunches below.
Pomegranates tumble towards earth
spice films everything.
The city is the birds’ business too
though I can’t imagine what they eat
or where their nesting hides.
Earthbound in our mix of compassion & abuse
busy with necessities & dreams,
the scuttle lacks any sense of grace.
How did people like us
build or banish so much
with those flightless hands?