the boy sculpts bird embryos from the dough and throws them up

the boy sculpts bird embryos from the dough and throws them up

in the morning, mother chases the winged doves from his eyelids

he hides his pupils in poppy pods
so that old people do not know that he is black-browed


under the three-meter sky, he flies like a calligrapher's hand

you fly all the time - says mother - at least take out the garbage

a boy looks for garbage in deserted places of Tangier
and on the pier under the final downpour
and in coffee shops where they serve dirty coffee
and cannot find