Bonaduces The Songs We Knew Best
We dressed and went outside, my sister and me, so we
could go watch the moon lie across the belly of the sun.
And she held me close; she knew I freaked out in the
dark. But I remained composed this time. Though I thought
it was the end. My ideas of the cosmos were not quite
Copernican. All I knew was mashed potatoes, Crayolas and
dolls. So, here, among the red leaves of a Massachusetts
fall, I was resigned. In dark days, scrunching up my
wings until brilliant rays came in from the strangest
place. And this light crept in from the margins fully
dressed, and it's singing the songs we knew best. I never
knew that she smoked, but I assumed it made her happy. I
hung my head down low and moved in close to smell its
stink hang on the chilled air. I loved you then; I wish I
had told you, I wish I had said that I wasn't scared at
your side. And I find it strange that in the face of
dying, it's small things that hold their shape and
qualify my presence here amongst you five, who have taken
up the burden of legitimizing my time in this life.
Chorus. Rose, you were right: there's nothing present in
the dark that isn't in the light.
