doctor, doctor, where¡¯s the doctor
|
wringing wet the woman hollers
|
bandage wrapped around her hand
|
collapses as they run to help her
|
help her up and offer water
|
did somebody call the doctor
|
loud machines so foreign to her
|
sent her splashing red against the wall
|
as her fingers fall
|
|
in the back a black piano
|
sits in silence what do we know
|
of it¡¯s past and of a time
|
and of the place it occupied
|
in the parlor with the daughter
|
playing for her drunken father
|
listening until he cried
|
you hear it echo out into the hall
|
as her fingers fall
|
|
in a bra and underwear
|
she¡¯s balanced now upon a chair
|
a letter written, tucked inside
|
a paperback, the rope is tied
|
around her neck and through the rafters
|
this is it. she¡¯ll show the bastards
|
everything she said was true
|
and now she¡¯ll be the envy of them all
|
as her fingers fall
|
|
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|
Fingers Fall
|
Ass Ponys |