Reva Thereafter

by Nate Borofsky, Ty Greenstein & Doris Muramatsu

You were the mother who said to her child, "You bring it up slowly"
All of these buoys, they mark the traps, and you were the only
Woman for fifty miles who could lift something like that
You'd cook them up in seawater soon as you got back

Reva, thereafter
Up to the rafters
Up through the plaster
Up through the highest beams, I will
Sing of your wonder
In a voice like thunder
Sometimes your heart bursts at its seams

The sound of a nighttime passing train wakes me from a slumber
The creeping of time keeps me awake, won't let me go under
But sometimes forgetting is all you need to get some sleep
Why have you left here, and what does it mean for me?


You wrote the letters one by one into the setting of the sun
Tell me, what was it like to send yourself into the light that night?


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