letra de medicine chest - simon joyner
i miss the ghost lady
who held the blonde baby
close to her medicine chest
through the dark and dirty
cobble cracked streets
of a suffocated new orleans
with his birth in seventy-one
her dreams were stillborn
but she escaped without a pillar of salt
it was a bankrupt south
and an embarrassing mouth
that drove her up the road
to insomniac new york
well i was raised in the midwest
my father did his best
to protect by teaching me
all about heart attacks
the loneliness of intelligence
and how to strum and sing
songs of blood without mining your soul
of the sun that steals the shadows from things
he said “all love is bartered
or sold son
and your independence or your guilt
is always the currency”
in your kite-string arms
i still feel swarmed
floating but within reach
and your concrete kiss i miss
though i still feel its impression in me
i told all the girls competing for your part
that my heart was made of iron ore
then i cried beneath the moon
stretching like a balloon
till it burst like my daddy’s before
now i’m full grown
and your letters read warm
and my throat even gets tangled on my heart
in the grace of mid-life
you’ve become a missionary’s wife
and you want to convince me
of the big question mark
but i can’t imagine ever tipping my hat
to christ your savior and king
because when i think of what
you’ve concealed from me
mama he didn’t save a thing
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