lyrics
the composers of rain
fight gently
but fight
nonetheless
over the brush
that first touched
my mother’s
teeth. mother
is asleep. I’d leave
a thumbprint
but am not sure
which lid
covers
the eye
she drinks with. I want to say
dying
is the bath
we draw
for death
but know
father
can’t hear
a thing
since losing
his voice.
/
though I am rarely old enough to have seen a boat
the boat is weeping
kingsoftrain 
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