Becomings

I became an ant to build a city,
To make a mound and flee self-pity,
That canker of the soul. I became a bird
To leave the city and see the sky
From a vantaged eye and to feed my young
I built a nest in the cloister of the nave
But then, to neither be a master nor a slave
Nor a cockerel on a mound of dung,
I learned to sing in an alien tongue
And, so no man would understand me,
I walked along a foreign road, burnt great blisters
In my boots, I revised your words
And turned them round to face the sky,
To flee the truth I became a lie,
Heard the gate post rattle,
                       the geese flew by.

If only autumn waited
                 for the shredded clouds.