Hours, Days, Months, Years

 

Feet on the ground 

Mired in muck

Storm

In the night

Picked up signals 

From the face

Never coming home

With the suitcase 

Of future lies

Minutes after

Closing the eye

The day you came back

I knew

The never hours

Were never close enough 

And the years

Chipped away 

Only after you opened 

The months

Fishing for grapes

After they rounded you up

And the wine

Your cheap excuse 

Hop on home with it

Forever 

Now I bind

The sheets

In the snow

As Ice

Grows off the roof

Never look

Never took

And the gripping

Flew out 

The house