Just Breath On Glass

There’s nobody in this room,
Not even me.
There are no birds in the sky,
And definitely no bird in that cage
I keep in the corner,
Always changing the newspaper
Always refilling the water
And the food dish.
There are no birds in the oil,
And none in my belly.
There is no one reading this,
And no one writing it.
There is just space.
There are just these two hypothetical points,
These two dots on an imaginary map.
The space contracts and expands.
Sometimes the string is tight,
And sometimes it’s loose.
But there’s no one pulling on it,
And when it goes slack,
It’s not because someone is tired,
Because there is no one.
Not here,
Nor anywhere else.