Before there are no sanctuaries. Without birds
Flying through, the soul is open territory
For wounding. We scraped the lakes dry
Milking salt for our tears, fasting our hand
To plates to placate the glacial creatures
Living in papers, their occult markings making
Promises they never keep. We build
A new home with yesteryear singing in our ears
While these are old fevers burn in the roads and rivers.
What's built on thieving. If you want to live, sign
This petition. If you want to love, come on.
D U S I E