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Here is my solitary city. This island of steel
and avenue. Towers with skeletons of organ

pipes that pierce the clouds’ flocking, but I
can’t find the keys and predators are behind

the doors. In the park, the statues of foxes
still stand. Their plinths cracked by roots

of dwarf ebonies, and Pallas cormorants nest
in their jaws. The sky broke through the aviary’s

roof and the swifts all went to sea or went
invisible. My church’s windows house zeros.