Sunday night when I clean the house
I find the card where you wrote it out
with the pictures of your mother
On the floor, at the great divide
With my shirt tucked in and my shoes untied
I am crying in the bathroom
In the morning when you finally go
And the nurse runs in with her head hung low
And the cardinal hits the window
In the morning, in the winter shade,
On the first of March, on the holiday,
I thought I saw you breathing