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Sitting with your death
The dusk-birds chattering
Way past their bed
The broached and
The blue-rinsed
Laughing in their language
All their way to
Their morning mass
The softly chin
Of a dog on my lap
A fire red bottlebrush
Quivering in a hover and a hum
I bought a page of headlines
And don’t understand
A single one
It sends you to bed, this feeling
Without any supper, this feeling
Tucks you like a nurse
Under starch white
Covers, it loves you
Loves you
Loves you
Until you go to flower, then cuts
And leaves you water
Just enough to get well soon
Leafing through your life
The left hand lettering
Finally being read
No history of this
Beehive hair and crimson dress
The stove piped man with a punch bowl spoon
And sweetest kiss
Is not the father
It's for the best
The Sisters said
The silent ride home
The unbearable sunset
The dog you found
By the factories
That followed you everywhere
You nearly named me after him
It sends you to bed, this feeling
Without any supper, this feeling
Tucks you like a nurse
Under starch white
Covers, it loves you
Loves you
Loves you
Until you go to flower, then cuts
And leaves you water
Just enough to get well soon
