There’s a suit on my frame
Like a shadows of birds
Stitched all together
By a murmur of words
That hang like a moon
In the thread of the air
And speak with the sound of
My every prayer
There’s a light at the end
Of the evenings that bring
A fire that only
Such hour can sing;
It slips off the tongue
Into trees going bare
That lean in to hear
Your every prayer
The past is a dark foreign country
That calls
That you whisper regret
Into the cracks of its walls
That rise as the border of
Love and despair,
And fall when they’ve heard
Our every prayer
An old woman stands up
In a boat with a fan
And signals the shore
With a wave of her hand
To a town disappeared
And a boy unaware
That he wades into reeds
With her every prayer
Now there’s a cut on my cheek
That I can’t leave alone
I reach it to find
Just how close to the bone
Does my skin and my blood
Allow me to dare
To live in the word
Of my every prayer