November 12, 2015


Anne, let's die in some dim town
My brown eyes wait to weigh us down
The candles 'round the tub will drown,
In our afternoons

Music from our evening parlor
Darker than the autumn hour
I gave my child twenty dollars
For tearing at our moons

Dark damp men muddied our house
In my dreams to bleed your blouse
I smiled from my sleep to douse
The horror of this hour

Our boy on dark hills blurry crawling
His rain-glazed shaking porches falling
The homes of all his friends just sprawling,
Withering like flowers

Anne, I've loved you from a boy
No other autumn could destroy
The town our winds fused to enjoy,
Whispering dark farmlands

Tearing moons, these moons are tearing
Swearing terror inside their daring,
Crumbling prayers, dark autumns faring,
Straight out of our hands

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