How it leaves only the distillate
In the petri dish of the day
A bluish egg from which
A wet bird stumbles
Shaking its blackish wings
You marvel that it only wants
To eat us pecking away
At our ears and eyes
So we have to tie a leash
Around its neck
And feed it with our blood
And put a fire under it
Until it glows and softens
And falls out with a thud
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