two hands built a room, your name mispelt on every stone. dead son built a room, your name mispelt on every stone.
i beat my head on every wall until i learned to steal back caution.
caution stolen from the wind and buried in my backyard, wrapped around a heart, tied with string and buried in my backyard.
i hoped a tree would grow there.
boarded windows stole the view of every tree that touched the sky. i stayed indoors and tried to wash the carpets clean. i couldn't get the blood out. and he said, "wear my distance like a new skin. show me palms that only push away."