We asked the moon to break the bread;
The two of us yapped, as black as dogs.
I couldn't find the words to tell you:
Talking is feeling for the emotionally inept.
I never liked your damned moon,
Its error driving men to howling
And shining through window blind slats.
You lay there painted like a zebra poised
For prison, its very crime its ostentation.
We crossed the bridge we burnt behind us;
Look back and even songs won't save us.
Take my hand; don't speak.
Listen for the scraping of tinder:
The sound we make burning together.
