Silvery

We’re your daughter,
we’re your ornery teeth,
we’re your author,
we’re your quarterly leave.

They’re your daughters,
they're your artery thieves,
prima donna,
run your pain to your teeth.

I will save your blood for years.
I will brave your flood to breathe.

Here often,
heard you bought a reprieve
up in Auckland,
we were trading retreats.

In your outdoors,
lay your throne and your wreath
in your hung jaw,
were you caught on your feet?

I will let the blood from the corners of your eyes,
I’ll vignette the flood from the borders of the tide.

You and I.

They're your daughters,
they're your artery thieves,
they’re your daughters,
a decade to conceive.

Let your blood,
silvery.