What doesn’t kill you and
Who cares what comes thereafter
We’re not getting any younger in
The layers of being gone

I peel the fruit with both hands
I peel
With a dusty heart I peel
The seven days of rest

Dear disappointing god
Consider the way
Scales balance
In the layers of being gone

Remembered first
Forgotten forward
Buried deep
Calling forward

We bought the bird
Which sang for seven days
In the layers of being gone
A folded song of her.

Image credit : Johann Sfar