So the fields are stubble, the garden's done
Where the scary scarecrow stands
Sees her holding up horizons with her handsShe's so tired of reading daddy's lips
That essay on a frown
Watch her memories of human voices drownLet horsey bray break between the thunder boom
Make grasses' swish meet the cricket's ring
Let every sound consecrate our whispering
Words that Betta never heard
So the back lanes tie the city down
A mess of dirty string
Winter dies the same way every springAs the sky tries on its uniform
Of turned off TV grey
And the ways we watched her watch us walk awayLet every rain clatter down at groaning streets
Make footsteps tick, talk to echoed walls
Let every sound consecrate our whispering
The words that Betta never heard
Let every wind howl and creak the creaking doors
To rooms that too much has happened in
Let every sound consecrate our whispering
The words that Betta never heard
