Are you ok
It must be hard on you
Pouring the ashes for two

But I am my mother’s
mother’s mother’s child
Bearing the weight is the proof

That my love goes as far as the moon
And If I’m dying I’ll die like a coon dog
Go out with style and grace
Or die from the grief of a
Loss of the trust of the master

How ya doing
When are you coming back
Just checking in on your mental health

Oh I am my mother’s
mother’s mother’s child
Hard work’s always the cure for the blues

Oh my idle hands are devil’s tools
I won’t loosen my grip on the lives we could lose if we
filled up our closets with
Uniformed skeletons who
Played by the rules of the master

---

peripheral darknesses; in the right corner of my eye a tear of ethanol, long distance phone calls from purgatory, the fear in your voice with my hand on your slipping pulse, you came so far just to get here. I am my mother’s mother’s mother’s child and I am witness the permanence of shame