Melting Grid - Julie Byrne

Paper that’s quick to burn, and the cinnamon peeler

Beetles crushed that dye the carmine, well, I exist to be dreaming still

Kansas, Arkansas, my fields they’re always rich and in fire

Long work labor not worth our minds

And I long forgotten the feeling of silence

And if the roses need not tending

Until, until noon I’d sleep

Never could I have gone on that way

Because money’s not the thing that’s ever given me sight

Colorado, Wyoming, Helena into the Evergreen

And the wilds washed all thought of endeavor that was left in me

And would you ask my permission

The next time you absorb me?

Preserve my memory of the mystic west

As I lay no claim to the devotion I felt

Our conversation, it banks in me

And I had almost forgotten the nature of dawn

I thought of it for days after, even months after the moments were gone

But I’d get so lonely inside that room

No matter who would ever wait for me

I get so lonely inside that room

No matter who would ever wait for me