She died when I was twelve
and I still miss her house
with a VHS copy of Cinderella too precious to shelve
She died when I was twelve
and I know it's best not to dwell
on a past you can't renounce but
She died when I was twelve
and I still miss her house
I'm six on the living room floor -
the pink album the pink album I chant -
dad puts the Supremes on the record player, the jacket handed to me -
pink, with three of the most beautiful women I've ever seen -
the Midwest is a snake eating its own tail.
get out get out get out is the head, beating in time with the heartbeat of every new baby born in these states,
it's hard to remember when/
when the throat begins to scratch at the mouth, begging to be let free
when the stomach begins its churning waves like an upset ocean god
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