how the sun gleams 
on their feathers 

butter knives glinting 
bright against the wire 

narcolepsy creeps again 
lids droop like feathers 

things wing away 

there are small cries 
of broken glass and 
wings flickering 
like eye-lashes 

how did they get there? 
how will they get out? 

if I could just keep  
my eyes open 
I know they would  
show me the way 

through shafts of motes 
& shadows of clocks 
& falling feathers 

somewhere to roost 
beyond the answers