I don't know how to behave
Reacting. Fists dangling
About the same time everyday
Sometimes an outfit blows in from the street
I can bring in the boats and sleep
But the old flag knits and rises
Shells and shards dust the yard
I wish it was white. I wish it was white
But it needs blood for the new erection

I try to be light, stop the low talk
But I am coward and Camus was right
You slide like a bangle down the days arm
And wait in the hand to be given away
But I don't deserve it, I won't wear it
I know it's a gift but Christmas is gone
I'm ashamed of the quiet but I want to be silent
All this practice and still no grace

I get so anxious I need a tattoo
Something binding that hides me
But when the time comes to design it
It opens up like height under a pilot
Like height under a pilot
It opens up like height under a pilot

Copyright: DOMINO PUBLISHING COMPANY
Writer(s): Hannah Harding