This house has been broken by incoherent words.
The lights have gone out. We can't find our way about.
We haven't got our faces on. Light a fire on the back porch.
It burns obediently all night. Until well into the afternoon.
It's not a fuse. The lights are broken. Under the roof
the wiring has been a meal for mice. Or something else.
Curl up like a baby on the couch and feel the damage.
Where are all the children with their pretty ways?
Put an argument in one hand, an argument in the other.
This is the way the women dance. How beautiful they are.
Do they own everything? They are laughing as they dance.
Leave this broken house behind and find another.
Some rapscallion little miss is looking for a lover.
A roof over her head, a light left burning for her.