Hand Inflamed. Our servant, doubting the existence of Poor Souls, scoffs to herself while ironing a shirt. An invisible hand touches the shirt and burns a hole through it, giving evidence of the fires of Purgatory.

from The Wizard Clip by Dear Other

/

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lyrics

Oh, what a tragedy!
I am a tree
it is my spring
but I wilting in the garden of Eden
indentured to an Adam
who don't give a damn
for me. Not an atom
for me.

But do I not have leaves?
Smell fragrantly?
Cast pleasing shade against the
monotony of husbandry
which burns the balding tops
of so many other middle-aged men?

Had I cast my limbs
fruit-laden and fair
and been stepped over
for some other orchard-creature laying there
it would have hurt
but made sense at least:
My dresser of trees
declines to undress me
so I'm off scot free.

But every swooning summer night
he leaves his bed for a blinding light
that calls him to his knees.
I hear the Tantum Ergo on the breeze.

Oh, what a comedy!
Adam's wife and me
fulfilling Christ's command
to love our enemies.
We drink tea
grind teeth
and roll our eyes
at the room where he
prays another rosary.

She says before the priest
blessed the house at least
she and he had peace
in mutual enmity
against that spirit dread
but now the dead instead
are partial to preach
upon the doctrine
of purgatory.

Far better were the days
and fabric-slitting ways.
A devil in the house
ain't half as troublesome as a saint.
She puts the saucer down
I try to hide a frown.
She looks away and sighs:

You should have known him
when he was a young man.

credits

from The Wizard Clip, released November 1, 2021

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Dear Other Steubenville, Ohio

Dear Other is a band centered in Steubenville, Ohio.
Marc | Maura | Caleb | Dan | Brodie | Albert | Harrison | Maria | Liam | Sean K | Rob | Sean B |

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