There are birds arising in these flying little dinosaurs


There are a hundred birds in each of them


They never quite land


when they steal

our last piece of chicken

though we lay out premium seed

every night

& every morning

on the rooftop of my in-laws

where my husband & I sleep in a little room

We watch this happen

It’s like beasts awakening in cave paintings

It’s like coming back to life


without belief

in anything

but these flying little dinosaurs

who seem to know it all

who don’t listen to god

or natural law

Without fear they remain


not dying

on a cross

or overlooking a promise

land they enter

wherever chewing through wood

& rag & screen

& when the clouds lay low in the afternoon

from the haze come dragons too

who descend to undo

clothespins & nails loose

At least five little dragons in each

whose true fire is their speech

taken from everyone

& everything

Muffled laugh track & hawk shrill

quarreling lovers

& siren

church bells

In august drench until the sky dims

the whole of hong kong screams out of them

It taunts & torments & yet

we never hear them coming

& they are never of one place

It never left this earth what they are

these shitty little dinosaurs

who won’t leave a single grape

to roll lonely on my plate

because once they were cockatoos in crates

crossing the south china sea this

they have not forgotten

Every night they escape

To not not arise from our skylines

while I hide my most precious things

as if these things will always be with me

as if the day will come they do not

return to the rooftop

where I’m not holding my breath

face pressed

against torn-up mesh


What they are this earth never left


I see the sunrise & sunset within seconds


There are


Hundreds & hundreds of birds arising in every one of them