Suit on a Frame

There's a suit on my frame like a shadow of birds

Stitched all together by a murmur of words

That hang like a moon in the thread of the air

And speak with the sound of my every prayer

There's a light at the end of the evenings that bring

A fire that only such hour can sing

It slips off the tongue in the trees going bare

That lean in to hear your every prayer

The past is a dark foreign country that calls

That you whisper regret into the cracks of its walls

That rise at the border of love and despair

And fall when they've heard our every prayer

An old woman stands up in a boat with a fan

Signals the shore with a wave of her hand

To a town disappeared and a boy unaware

That he wades into reeds with her every prayer

Now there's a cut on my cheek that I can't leave alone

I reach it to find just how close to the bone

Does my skin and my blood allow me to dare

To live in the word of my every prayer

My every prayer