One day I hope to follow the sun As it slips and falls and withers away Purple and grey Two boys chopping down tree after tree They break the stems and gather their leaves Laying them down to be burned away And I know the names of the shepherds I meet They sprinkle ash on the tops of their feet Walking in pairs The dead hang tight from the Indian palms The idle days and translated psalms What can I say to the mourning men? And I braid my hair in a mirror at night To join the crowd that has gathered to see Losing the light The streets here follow and flood like the sea They'll swallow you in sandier waves Often I wish they would swallow me