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lyrics

the morning was an open wound
and your belongings scattered all down the road
like the empty frames of dead deer
buildings burning inside your throat
forever's not made up of flesh and bone
its the iron hull of a landlocked boat

rinse, rust, thin, and fray
no black dress just bark bits
and a few feet of clay
heave a satchel of seeds
wait til the first week of may
dig up the roots and i will know you again

and you were the ash of a house fire smothered by dirt
tilled til the rows of mounded earth
sprouted pine from your sleeping limbs
and on the day i am born blissful and blithe
to a gardener and his wife
you block the sun from my eyes
ribbons of ivy

sky closes the shutter snaps and retains
the deep blues and pale golds
and the great seas of grey
and it washes us clean til all that remains
are two silhouettes atop a great plot of clay

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Ava Marie Poultney, Vermont

5 piece Indie from central//western Vermont. Collections of songs constructed from the memorable remnants of reoccurring dreams, and early childhood.

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