Mums

my hand rests your face & it looks a lot like me

all the lineaments stay

i was my father’s only one then age took ahold of him

blue eyes say hold me

uncle’s arm tied ‘round the couch then he popped his last balloon

47 birthdays

don’t you sigh for me

come spring i’ll be the flowers

don’t sound for me

i’ll be all the colors

mums bloom and propagate & i’m making my way across the prairie

spent living my last days in some kind of pain no prayer to save me

my pa he worked all day hauling mineral in trade, he left before me

don’t you sigh for me

come spring i’ll be the flowers

don’t sound for me

come spring i’ll be the colors

i’m making my way back to those eastern states

please god forgive me

since then i carry you around with me in a tin can for nicotine

it’s fine nobody knows

stacked in my guitar case buried beneath so many things

bird feathers falling