We ate the birds. We ate them. We wanted their songs to flow up through our throats and burst out of our mouths and so we ate them. We wanted their feathers to bud from our flesh. We wanted their wings we wanted to fly as they did soar freely among the treetops and the clouds and so we ate them. We speared them we clubbed them we tangled their feet in glue we netted them we spitted them we threw them onto hot coals and all for love because we loved them. We wanted to be one with them. We wanted to hatch out of clean smooth beautiful eggs as they did back when we were young and agile and innocent of cause and effect we did not want the mess of being born and so we crammed the birds into our gullets feathers and all but it was no use we couldnt sing not effortlessly as they do we cant fly not without smoke and metal and as for the eggs we dont stand a chance. Were mired in gravity were earthbound. Were ankle-deep in blood and all because we ate the birds we ate them a long time ago when we still had the power to say no.