Some days her shape in the doorway 
 Will speak to me 
 bird’s wing on the window 
 Sometimes I’ll hear her when she’s sleeping 
 Her fever dream 
 language on her face 

 I want your flowers like babies want God’s love 
 Or maybe assurance tomorrow [bad word] 
 Some days, like rain on the doorstep 
 She’ll cover me 
 With grace in all she offers 
 Sometimes I'd like just to ask her 
 What honest words 
 She can’t afford to say, like 

 I want your flowers like babies want God’s love 
 Or maybe assurance tomorrow [bad word]