Fold this, our daughter’s grave,
And seal it with your kiss.
For all the love I gave,
You owe me this.

Inside of me, she had
Your lips and tongue, my air
Of grimness, thin and sad,
With your thick hair.

Inside of you, I trust,
She was a simple mesh
Of need and paper, lust –
Potential flesh.

And there was such pure song
In life begun from you,
I held the dead too long,
As women do,

But leaving like you did,
When only I could feel
The biding, body, bid
Of what was real,

She’s put out with the cur,
The garbage, heartache, cat.
Promise you’ll sing to her.
You owe me that.

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