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The Trade - lyrics
The sun was deep in the garden when grandfather and I wrapped his oiled figurines in your finest shawls and tied them in a bundle. You brought his wineskin from the river and hung it across his chest. Then you knelt in the garden and watched in silence as he led me between beds of peas and corn, and along a ragged staircase leading up through the evergreens. Sweating, we stood above the estuary and watched the river crawling into the ocean. Mother, you were small as a beetle� collecting wood and shells along the shore. Grandfather lent me his knife and watched me peel the bark from my walking stick. At dusk, I laid the white staff on the needle-covered ground and handed him the carving knife. He touched my wrist and said, You have your mother�s narrow bones. Then we lay in the dark, under heavy cedar boughs. All night I lay awake, listening to them creak. The next day, we came across a pair of tracks and found your rusted oven bound to a wooden skid left in the dry scrub beside the road. |
