The yellow bird in its golden cage sings
to me, in the depths of the night, while I
raise my palm to my lips and kiss
it, pretending I were loved;
though my sorry heart knows I am
not, and the flightless canary does too--
its singing metamorphs into wailing as
the amber stars sink in the sky.
The darkness nibbles
on their ivory light, and my warmth
subsides to ice.