Ramshackle Dewdrops

so you stand around,
thinking about stuffing your pockets
with that old burned out earwig,
who tore up your house

i took it all down,
every last drop
tell me about your confections,
as we pray to a clay statue

swing your machete low
in a amniotic embrace
i will strive to do the unimaginable
so we can bath in waters of gold

it's a hard conversation to have
but still you run back to the somkehouse
with your cured meats and dried up fishes,
i wish i made secret wishes
in your immortal and holy name