My ceiling is a hand.
Give it a smile and it shakes my hand.
Rise up from debris, detaches from me,
and subtly stands.
Then it's holding a gun to my head,
and it waves to me.
Delivers a sign, embezzles my mind,
falls down all around me.
He said he was starlight high.
Watching, I am, we're in the sky alive.
My ceiling is a hand.
Give it a smile and it shakes my hand.
It waves to me coldly,
says, "nice of you to know me!"
Right here where I stand,
under my ceiling, The Hand.
Everything Katie Dill does is absolutely incredible. Her writing is phenomenal and her arrangements of folk tunes are some of the best I've heard. Haunting, experimental, and beautiful. Andrew Preston