Betel's Valentine

Leaves are the only language I’ve got left
it’s a small mentally-enlarged yard
in a nation that has lost its name
in a brain that has lost
its capacity for scorn.

Finally the Greeks realized Apollo
and Dionysius were the same creature
but my fellow prisoners disdain
both equally in complete denial
of their own precarious position.

Sometimes they come so close
to my face I can hear
the __________ beating of their wings
orangeness singing
you’re up next.