Each step whelps the heart the tongue is over it bound to change  its  muck where do we find the roots to go on calling how pretty your hair and  your  husband and  your rage  yet their eyes go on skiffing  you  away from  home     you keep   our mouths wide open our ephemeral gaze shifting   we slog to you bing the whole family   you  lish  up the highway then spurk and set don wicks for our babies now  hear  the sound of you and your daughters   enjoying hot heaming souse