When God pressed her fingerprints over Calais
A million starlings swirled song-less over the jungle.
When God threw her black veil in grief for widows
A million starlings migrated to the bottom of the sea.
When God danced in her black dress to Aleppan anthems
two Mig birds left an aviary of wounds in a million nests.
When God wrote her ballads for man she used the ink-pot sea
A million starlings danced over Calais and sang from the diggers.
When God slit her wrists just she released a million starlings
She wanted to see the pain leave her but mankind never cared.
When a million starlings lie dead over Europe
wrap them in tents where the albatrosses slept.