I slept through the fall
And tripped through the spring
On pebbles that grew wings
and flew to my window
Shattering glass
between my arms and your past
But the wind blew again,
Packed my door shut with snow
Until all there was to do
Was get high
And pray your hands
made it back to mine.

Mother I swear
I'll plant seeds in the garden,
forgotten.

I've got a home in east Ohio
and a palm full of bees,
like thunder.

Drawers full of whiskey,
mother I'm trying.

Static voices set the sky to shambles.