Dear John

Hey, hey

We read together in a delicate trade

And when you sang it was a delicate sound

But I was little and I didn't know how

I had a spider in my mouth

We eat apples in the dark and you say:

Your thoughts will settle in a happier place

Your gaze is steady and you have a kind face

 But all the holy joy you bring

Is made of nothing

And nothing like the longing I feel

For every scrap and every whisper of song

My arms stretching over shadows and sun

The air water in my lungs

Dear John

My stomach's bleeding but the rattle is gone

This is the story in the rumbling night

This is the story in the softening light.