All things that live will die
Restless birds, a clouded sky
Sense the titan, fear to elope
Flee through swamps with breath and rope

This shape that likes to watch
No eyes, no beak, just grudge
My breath, my light, the thrill
It finds, it hunts, it kills

This shape that seems to wait
With its branches, shadows, feathers, its bait
Like a doll made of vines
Heart of opal, hair of ice