the mornings rose no sun
blackness are the days
the moon pulling double duty
everything lies in shade
If
the robin hadn’t wings
he sings but not flies
and walks on tippy toes
rasping songs down low
If
the whales swallow the oceans
the ocean now a desert
of dry shells and bone
If
you go
I’ll not have the sun
covered in shade
I’ll hang down low
and roam a desert grave