trounce by kerry justine

trounce

i listened and i watched
i listened and i watched
the voices cracking the pavement’s song

i staggered and i clung to a hundred year old wall
to climb the muscles of the streets below

well there’s a story of a man from a room so very small
he drove the shotgun beneath the vines
and above a mountain pass
clouds beside my eyes
i’ll sing of places
i’ll never know

what is the staple to this year?
throw a smoke bomb and disappear
the search for quiet that never comes

a sunrise to pull me in
subdue the brute within
and calm the muscle
that won’t return

well there’s nothing in my hands
balled, shaking in my pockets
i’m not tiptoeing on the sun

there isn’t any static
no storm beneath my lungs
hold my eyes level
return the smile

and sleep will never come
to those who won’t rejoice
or those who run for windowsills

for who could be a guide
a partner or a child
to one who lingers in empty rooms?

well there’s a story of a man from a room so very small
he drove the shotgun beneath the vines

• Folk
• jangly
• one woman
• storytelling
• windswept
• New Jersey