So the fields are stubble, the garden is done where
the scary scarecrow stands and sees her holding up horizons with her hands.
She's so tired of reading Daddy's lips - -that essay
on a frown. Watch her memories of human voices drown.
Let horsey bray break between the thunder boom. Make
grasses' swish meet the cricket's ring.
Let every sound consecrate our whispering words that
Betta never heard.
So The backlanes tie the city down; a mess of dirty
string. Winter dies the same way every spring.
As the sky tries on its uniform of turned off t.v.
grey, and the way we watched her watch us walks away,
let every rain clatter down at groaning streets. Make
footsteps tick, talk to echoed walls.
Let every sound consecrate our whispering the words
that Betta never heard.
Let every wind howl and creak the creaking doors to
rooms that too much has happened in.
Let every sound consecrate our whispering the words
that Betta never heard.