Goliath is struck by the stone.
The stone turns into a bird.
The bird sings in her window.
Time is absurd. It flows backward.
It is married to the word.

This is the window of the giant’s eyes.
This is the bird singing alone.
This is the river of forgetting.
This is the chosen stone.
This is Goliath’s widow.

Struck by the stone he leaps
into the future. He lies
a monolith, a rune, a light
from a distant nova. Not even a bone
remembers begetting him ever.

The song is a monotone.
She is the word and the window.
She is the stone and the bird.
She is the bed of the river.