Dean Lewis & Laura de Jesus

Pains of the soul 

What do I make of this dragged time

Where only the birds brave the ice

And even the fish shiver in the river?

What do I do with the wind in my face

if it's not a rare bird

And it doesn't come at dusk

Help to collect

The animals in the pasture?

What do I do with the cold afternoon

Who piled up unstamped letters

of my old wants?

What do I do with myself, 

what do I do with myself,

From here to the room, from the room

for any book

You gasp, sigh, silent longing and in

 the meantime years, lives pass 

but not even a shadow of your shoulder

From what I remember, the cigarettes,

Of music, of writings

In your warm embrace?

What am I doing this afternoon?

What can't I do to you?

What do I do with this calendar date?

What marks an old anniversary?

What am my father doing, today

When the rain threatens

contagion and desolation brings your

name and taste like never again?