by Christos Polydorou

I am dancing in a bird’s
nest. In a bird’s
nest. I am
swaying in a bird’s nest.

A charm
of goldfinches swarms around me. A chirm.
A trembling.

A trimming
of goldfinches
circles me.

Lifts me up
out of my life.
Into the sky.


There is a bigger nest there.
I discover as I lay
down my soul, safe, at last,

within the nest
in the clouds,
that my body

was the wrong city for my soul
all along,
for it to be a gong

for anyone to hear,
let alone … God.

A congregation of rooks.
A doading of sheldrakes.
A gulp of swallows.