A practical deity.

Flashing back to 1917.

I am your daughter’s

Daughter’s son.

I found your hammer on my bed.

I want you to know that I won’t let it go,

And I’ll carry it straight to

Katrina’s head.

Of your Daughter’s Eldest,

I am the one,

The first of her surviving four.

I found your heart beating inside my chest,

When I ripped myself out

From your hardwood floor.

I want you to know

That your house was my home.

Your strong hands are my own.

I’ll carry your Cedar Heart

And a rusty claw hammer

Straight down, down to Katrina’s throne.