The rooster was dead.
My bible was blank.
The sun went down and I opened my eyes.
Stars, you don't fool me;
I'm not some country fool headed down the cellar steps.
The Moon is the only one I can trust--
Don't you think I know that?
Roads go both directions, no use to set out on them at all.
Rain made the river drunk,
and the fields lay back like whores for it.
Here I come, after dark.
Here I come, half a teacher with a lesson long as willow branches.
I wasn't always like this.
I was a bauble on a string, thinking myself rare.
Then you wrote your name on my skin in fingernail blood,
and after that I was rare, a horse apple in a blind man's hand.
The rooster is dead;
He won't be traveling anymore.
My bible is blank and open on the berm.
Stars, you don't fool me--
I'm woke as fuck
and have forgotten more mercy than you'll ever deserve.