Married, had a little lamb,

This belongs, this place is hers,
Places hearse and plays in dirt
This place, my mom, this place is yours,
Your tears like living bone.

He is gone.  I barely cried.
Buried ripe like beer reeks, right?
Fire on, he wanted heat,
A secret funeral.

I should not have left you all alone,
All alone, all alone,
Every night for a year or more –
I could not call this a home.