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Everything creaks in this world
My children rode my shoulders before I was born
Their new finger whorls in the furrows of my brow
And I was born with this feeling
Shoulders passed along by bone
Lungs flowered like palms at a stream
Waiting for the air to come
In this world
Everything creaks
Grasses grind against the breeze
Springs of clothes pegs clutch at threads
Shedding rust in flecks, the dance of it
The bone keys and old grain
Pass along in pieces, and voices and hands
Graven and engraven with their little maps
Pressed into the path of chattering reeds
And I was born with this feeling
Everything creaks in this world
Finger line in dust, a book on the shelf
Open any page to the scent of your room
I could die of this feeling
Drifting in the wake of a Jupiter storm
My children named the moons before I was born
Feathers warble hey look what I found
In this world everything creaks
And I was born with this feeling
Bone keys so quaver thin
Everything creaks
