sutured in place. revised again.
hardly hanging. from the top of his head.
cast out to sea like an old man's ghost.
then forced to live off salt from his bones.
i suppose, i'll write the words that he should have said.
intertwined and reaching, for anything that he can.
the river has run dry. it will never lead him home.
it will never lead him home.
his hands can no longer lift the stones.
my hands can no longer lift these stones.
nothing but the sound of her voice.
he forgets to sing.
nothing but the sound of her wings.
i forget to breathe.
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