under streetlamps that burst

Somewhere in the valley a receiver goes dead
and there’s no answer to the question
when can I see you and your sister again?

I forget sometimes how
to justify my pride.
I forget sometimes how close I am
retching over the edge I know
my father and I share ghosts.
I want to see the churches burn away
they’d never pray for my father.
No one ever has.
We were born to die in the mire
and sometimes I forget.