Matchstick Maker - Bowerbirds

Dredge the Cedar River

For a previous life

Or scour the cliffs above

In search of lost time

And you’ll never find the body

As the Palisades crumble slowly

And claim the past as their own

Branded skin, broken vessel

Took a job in the city

Making matchsticks

To start other men’s fires

Oh

Gorgeous blooms on these cliffs

Midst a battery of sticks and twigs

Gravity toils away

Blisters on its hands from tightening ropes all day

Lashing down all it sees

But its pull is like a father’s and not like a king’s

And the rule of the land is more like a strong suggestion

As this strong current begs for the open ocean

Branded skin, broken vessel

Took a job in the city

making matchsticks

To start other men’s fires