Cage Without You

The night has Mitski’s soul, now,
Or so sings her soul, she sings.
A writer writes an essay

About how she lost her words
From injuries she is still
Slowly recovering from.

Her words return, one by one,
Like the gods of Ezra Pound,
But she was a novelist,

And the night stole her stories,
And she’s not her without them.
It’s a blessing to believe

Your cage never held a soul,
No gods ever fled from you,
You never had a story,

But the cage is whispering
The singing bird’s last warning,
All it ever held was you.