House Fires

Mom was scared of house fires, so we would make a list

Of the things we might save with little arms and little fists

We'd carry all our choices down the stairs and out the door

To the mailbox at the bottom of our hill beside the road

Dad would grab the rolodex and family photo tin

I thought I'd grab my puppy and my brand new violin

But on the night you burned, and I fled to the car

I only took my toothbrush and a cell phone charger

Carry an umbrella, and it'll never rain

Build a house beside a lake, and it won't go up in flames

We dug each other's graves so we wouldn't die alone

And we planned a great escape from this world to one our own

You would grab the animals and our most expensive gin

I would grab the vinyls, your best shoes, my violin

But on the night you burned, and my back hit the wall

I ran with blistered hands and no plan at all

And I drove with whiskey in my blood, with blurried double vision

I left with no religion, every breath a new decision

Saying, "tear yourself away, my love, from what could never happen.

You need to let her burn before you consecrate the ashes."

Consecrate the ashes

How do you hold something burning?

I'm afraid of house fires, so help me make a list

Of things we might save, should it ever come to this

Let's keep it simple, just one thing a piece

If I carry you, will you carry me?