temperamental weather

in my dream
like Alma i was
shot and again

and again
one true bullet hit

you took me down my
bairn my little bairn
yellow haired and all
you took me down

you, visiting
the horse's grave
you took me down

you and the grandfather's
clock
you took me down

the dregs in
your teacup there on the desk
they take me down

you think me healthy
and natural

milk-glass or bees' wax

or good steady light

i think me
temperamental weather

i have a sorry body
made of sugar or wax
it looks just as it should
and is so alone

little bairn 
i could not save you
and i tried so hard
to dissemble your cage

but all that we are left with
is all that we had
and a little bit less
given what we gave 

bath

Straight Reading: "As I Sit There Mending Clothes That You Will Never, Ever Wear"

"as i sit there mending clothes you will never, ever wear"

heartbreak is sweet like flutes
it feels old,
when i feel it,
numbing my slack feet
contorting in my little chest
i feel like a thousand brown haired women
one hundred thousand brown haired girls
who were left alone
looking 'round, and
starved

eating clay, and calling it bread