not breathing, - Telefon Tel Aviv

What happened to the trees my father planted?

The red tops in the back yard

Could they be shoring up the delta somewhere?

In a landfill, or a stream?

Things can never be the same as they once were

The gates go up, the trees come down

That timeless feeling of not understanding

Furniture’s been moved around

Or something hidden in past lives of children

Time has made ghosts of us all

My little sister’s filthy handprint still there

Hidden on the closet wall

Old pieces of my life are falling away

Another piece of me gone