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Canebreakers
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Frozen Needles
The emptiness
Of the bottle in her hand
Beneath the fire, beneath the smoke
Before the bleeding of her pen
Could write the lines to her amends
It was seething with the memory of a friend
The chilling mist
Of the only half-drawn sheets of rain
Could cloud the sins below
The amber glow of her pain
And shade her moonlit mountain of fear
And then hide the frozen needles in the snow
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We've been out of time, time and time again
She would cry, drowning my bitter, hung mementos on the wall
And they would fall for the silent, serial symptoms
Of her death
Of all the books she wore
Of all the clothes she tore
The only thing recovered from the mess
Was an old tin of unkept promises
And buttons from a dress
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