The candles are forgetting how

to light the holes in our bodies.

Still, they dine on thunder and hearts,

for soon they will do a quiet crime.

To light the holes in our bodies

satellites steal the script and burn it,

for soon they will do a quiet crime

and save that talk for morning’s first blush.

Satellites steal the script and burn it,

the way my clematis has to strangle something

and save that talk for morning’s first blush

to pay so much purple interest to the sky.

The way my clematis has to strangle something

when the house is happily numb, hoping not

to pay so much purple to the sky.

Only the evidence points to your innocence

when the house is happily numb, hoping not

all your alibis will feel like paper cuts.

Only the evidence points to your innocence,

and in the spirit of full disclosure, I must tell you

all your alibis will feel like paper cuts.

Half the fun is not knowing where that ocean came from,

and in the spirit of full disclosure, I must tell you

if you take the beach away, my ribs will follow.

Half the fun is not knowing where that ocean came from,

like the apostle who came in the rain,

if you take the beach away, my ribs will follow.

To be in love with my golden mouth,

like the apostle who came in the rain,

the candles are forgetting how

to be in love with my golden mouth.

Still they dine on thunder and hearts.