somewhere in this ocean of rules and replies
there must be a word for the feeling
in this chair watching sun hit your shoulder
in this room watching power lines flicker
 
somewhere in our house there's a photograph
of you asleep on a train
I'm watching through camera lenses
I'm washing your hair
 
I'm lost in an hour of your singing
        if we had a -- to pray to a
torn down by the chill of this floor
        more years or -- more strength or
unmade by a textbook of consequence
        if we were the -- one moment of
undressed in these hallways of hesitance
        to tell it to -- more time baby
 
 
somewhere in this silence of gifts and returns
there must be a word for our mourning
on this phone calling lies to our doorway
on this earth selling shares of our dreaming
 
somewhere in our house there's a letter
we wrote to your Mom
we promised her Christmas and grandchildren
we promised us wisdom and solitudes