(con)TEXT

Where is the hands that laid these birds one atop the other?
Where is the tree from which they fell?
Where is the colour of life bleeding in to and out of everything?
Where is the ground?
Where is the sky?
Is this one bird, or two, or three, or four?
Is this why they cling to each other?
Would you cling to something real, but dead, in the absence of absence?