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I pull on your sleeves and drag you to the evergreen trees. Worry in your voice is broken like the skin on your knees. Passive little charm that covers up the killer in the heals. Looking in your eyes I can only see the burning fields.

Of course, it was you.

Blessed is the child that keeps our one emotion running wild. Take the bottom brick and toss another falter on the pile. I sit on it high and advertise that I'm the reason why. Gossip in the town the tally is that he cannot be found.

Of course, it was you.

Our love never cared it could never be scared to a death within a hollow home. Grit behind the teeth and a fire beneath burning embers of a heart of stone. Somewhere in those eyes, there's a lack of surprise and a picture of a lonely man falling to his knees with another disease and a wish to hold another hand.


from The Marriage of a Killer and a Bird Song, released December 1, 2019


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Harsh Winters Edinburgh, UK

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