Every Hair is Numbered
by Michael Gregory
Every granule of dust is deadly
When swallowed whole or taken through the pore
My poverty is reflected completely
In the shattered glass above the broken door
The stairs collapsed, the wallpaper is peeling
Poppies falling slowly towards the floor
Death attempted here, but now he’s kneeling
In the shattered glass above the broken door
You woke up and whispered, “I’ve been faking,
I’m distracted by the siren’s urgent horn,
Daunted by the pace of England’s shaking
The frontline of where everything is torn.”
I turned and said, “You have to leave, it’s morning”
Wave the petal, pull the poison thorn
Things, they just don’t happen without warning, on
The frontline of where everything is torn
Forget that there’s a path that leads to glory
The power marshalled there you cannot keep
There’s no beginning, no end to every story
Because you sleep in me and are asleep
The master’s hand is heavy on the youngest
Buried with the others, a thousand deep
Rows of stones, and yours seems like the longest
Because you sleep in me and are asleep
I took the crucifixes from the table
You know by now by whom you were deceived
How is it that I find myself ungrateful, for
The blessings I unwittingly received
You look around, you wouldn’t know there’s trouble
The conflict felt so carelessly conceived
Tonight, I’ll go looking through the rubble, for
The blessings I unwittingly received
You believed that every hair was numbered,
Who knew that you were counting from the start,
They’ve grayed, faded away as I’ve slumbered
And drifted farther from the matter’s heart
But I conferenced with the letters that you left me
I checked your math, you never missed the mark
There’s no culprit in love or in theft, but
We’re drifting farther from the matter’s heart
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