Coal/Ivory

Smooth and altogether white,

Same on the inside. It was my

birthday, I felt its weight like

a stone.

I listened for the sound of it,

smelled for the smell of it. And it was

my birthday.

Down below the garden's bed, weak

deep and dirty lead, sinking to the

surface making a fine, fine mess.

If I don't clean it up, I better get

used to it, sinking to the surface.

Sometimes I forget you took your

chances with another, there is coal

in the ivory.

Depends on how you see it, that

ain't how I see it, sneaking through

the fence of my long eyelashes.

You can say that it's the first time,

but it ain't the first time, sneaking

through the fence.

Can you see us through the

mountain, heart of mine?