Fingers doused with rosemary oil,
cloth on the Singer sewing machine
where oh, starved artist, you mend.
The fly-wheel moves like a moon;
the treadle: the pulse
in a womb; your eyes the black
of a deer's; my song unjust.
The miles you rock with your feet,
your hands arthritic and weak...
Your words are salve when you speak,
but words alone I can't trust.
credits
from Portrait of a Demolition,
released December 12, 2011
Written, performed and recorded by Shane Murphy.
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