Our wings are straight out, our wingtips just
Touch as we move motionless over the whole
Earth as we glide without diving over the whole
Map of creation, silent and colored-in, just us.
What do we see from the great height of our love?
Millions crawling over the earth and over each other, larvae
Feasting on their mother’s corpse in a red furrow.
There’s more to this earth than our hovering.
I’d rather fly beside you, lashing our hook-beaks,
And starve on the air currents like a dying leaf
Than dive for the fattest lamb, the most ripe beef
If we must walk among those whose lives are crooked.
Can’t these fools see that love is a straight line?
Love stretches straight from your taut heart to mine.