Somerville

Warp in the wooden
Floorboard twisting, curling, revealing;
Gap in the base of it all,
Screaming a hollow, empty note,
Granting a desperate glance into the
	heart of it
Or into the dark where the heart ought to be
(I was sure I’d seen it once.)

Patch it up with instant love --
	pretend, pretend.
Lucidity is painful, lonely vision
In a place where they put
Heavy, frosted plastic over the windows
	of their hearts,
To keep out the cold.

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