I took the flag down
as soon as you were in the ground
and kept it for myself,
but I don't take your slippers off,
though they do slip off a lot --
too much to fill.
And you taught me how to yell
and when not to.
I still can't tell
which I should do right now.
And you taught me to boil water in eggshells
to make the ghost confess:
yes, he was a child,
but it was now so long ago,
and it's impossible to know
what we have witnessed.
And, with a small wood-carving tool,
you taught me more than I learned in school
or anywhere:
how to bore a hole in things,
fill the absence with false dreams,
and let it slowly burn
to smoke a salmon we once caught
(although the meat's begun to rot)
slow and low
and long-since longing for a song.
But you taught me to boil water in eggshells
to make the ghost confess:
yes, he was a child,
but it was now so long ago,
and it's impossible to know
what we have witnessed.
Michelle Stodart’s folk music captures hope in melancholy, addressing the transformational aspects of the most challenging times. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 3, 2023
Folk artist Josienne Clarke revisits music from her back catalog, infusing these lonesome songs with a new luminosity and drive. Bandcamp New & Notable Apr 18, 2023