Wee net dividing us
Nothing but a hop over
Nothing but a shot to the shoulder
Damned blades and bullets
Never let go
Lone, lo’
Cradle, net, stone
I weep and smell
And the nest crashes, all eggs spill
Please eat the dead
Please correspond with whim
Where’d you go?
I needed you
To Listen
She spoke at the same time as me
With walls in the way
And drove me insane
Where’d you go?
Why’d you sever my mother’s arm?
From three thousand miles away?
I ran
Right into the cars
They all shot me
In the head
Every single Brit
With flashlights and
Stone we run toward numbers which
See us, so slow
So saddled up and in a sense
So small as to count more than extraradical infinity
