she has faces up in her bedroom and they gaze down on her guarding her slumber

a black bead rosary under her pillow and when it thunders she clutches it tightly

and she hears silence is white, sound is black, the world is wrapped in a paper sack

and when i leave i close the door to this galaxy of yours

dropping by i open a window as the breeze blows in the curtains are butterflies

and we hear the churchbells ring out on a hill and all of their echoes left us singing

silence is black, the room is bright, our world is basking in tv light

and we are laid out on the floor of this galaxy of yours



with all of your heroes waiting in paper piles laid on the floor

i push my paintbrush lightly and fill in any empty nail holes



a dresser top, a jewelry box, colored tassles tied in knots

and a porcelain girl danced a music box ballet for us

and your nightlight is a star, or a firefly, that

leads my gaze up to the ceiling

wondering if you think that it's the sky

with all of your heroes...



open the window slightly, pick up paper off the floor

i hold my paintbrush tightly, and fill in any empty nail holes

open the window slightly