It is early 

You are dead 

There are crows in our bed 

But I won’t come undone 

We are done, we are done 

There is air still 

In my lungs 

I will get up and get on 

With the other mouths and tongues 

And the work there is to be done 

This is what becomes of us 

There are dim things in the pond 

There is dust under the rug 

And I don’t ever know 

What’s below what’s below 

But I am up! 

I am above! 

I have a new love! 

And it’s warm like a gun 

Or a knife that I fell on 

This is what becomes of us 

I was not ready 

You won’t be back 

I was not ready