I’ll kiss the ash from your lips
I’ll turn your soil gone to weed
I’ll rake the sky for light sufficient
I’ll raise you up from bitter need
I’ll kiss the ash from your lips
I’ll turn your soil gone to weed
I’ll rake the sky for light sufficient
I’ll raise you up from bitter need
(For Pieter)
You’re not one for praying
but you lit the candles
when I gave you the coin.
We sat without saying –
it still wasn’t praying –
but the wind was weighing
the hearts it did join.
Slender stalk
and greeny leaf,
a morning brief
in a weary yard
Just tipped chairs
bottles and brooms.
It’s closing time
in Gnashville.
Draw me a bath, please, a hot bath