Sidle away the way I taught you.
And savor mistakes, the salt of the earth, the sweat of desire:
upon what but those ruins
could you erect higher altars?
The door is braced with luggage of divorce:
typical garments of temporal longing.
For the fourth time in a week, the well water
froze; gabardine-decked men arrived
in the driveway, with Jesus billowing
from pamphleted pockets. They spouted the power
to splice fraying hearts, but their passionate
rhetoric could not soothe love, could not write
those hearts into the scriptures
of sleep. So much depends
upon the umbilical tug, the restless
voyage home, the want and eisegesis
of reunion. So much--lost in the furrowed brow,
the disapproval, the wheels forced to turn.
credits
from Open Hearth,
released February 1, 2011
Written, performed and recorded by Shane Murphy.
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