#284
10/11/2010
Careful tears
roll down my cheek,
a leak
in the tarp I’ve
placed over my head
to keep the sense
of a lost being
from boring into
my heart
like a woodpecker
who returns to the same
old tree stump
zeroes in on the
nest of insects;
making it bleed.
My heart bleeds
each November,
it bleeds
from a hole as
soft as silk.
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