An Island of Hands

The Last Star of Amastris

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6AnVtx8F-w

I lay down on the very ground where all at once we prey
are taken to our knees and felled like spring time clothes.
We rose and fell and rose again like northward vultures
on an island of hands.
We wore ships upon our souls; hollowed out to accommodate.

Falling out and down, I lay down on my own funeral mound in the circling haze of my youth, snuck up on me now, in old age.
Lost again to the waves, I hose down and imbibe.
I hold down my own splintered tongue so as not to frighten off
anyone who might wander into my closed eye.
I’m wandering through nine kinds of time.

©2018 Packard Black Productions
Music and Lyrics by Rain Fice.
Arranged, performed, and recorded by Rain Fice and Nicholas Wowk,
in Bancroft, Ontario, Sept. 2018.