You Believe In Me

You believe in me – above the noise & chaos,

bridges that swing & break with the weight of our words

Everything grows spiny & fragile with breakage

Still, you play harmonica with a country grin,

Your hands black with swiping at all the repairs

And the guitar has a loose string – the music out of reach

in the wide expanse of this house

The money that goes away, the hand carried letters

I lay like court evidence at your feet –

I have the names of the dead growing on my back

All the praise songs are out of breath

And still you point at the open sky, wide eyed, believing,

I have the fey luck of the Irish, a nice laugh,

a disposition ready to please – As I cup my hand

around a child’s crayon, marking x after x on the calendar –

Biting my lip, and nodding, pressing so hard the color

breaks in my hand

(image from internet) 

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