An emptied tent in an open field
On a slanting brushland
beyond the dunes
This is my heart
This is my heart
A peg wrenched loose by a skewing pole
And a wrinkled door flap
flotsamed by gusts
This is my heart
This is my heart
Dust cast off crusts and a shredded rug
Of a homely pattern
shunted aside
This is my heart
This is my heart
A bowl with a dried on smear of broth
And no table under
no spoon nearby
This is my heart
This is my heart
Look at this: spare and indelicate
An envelope fabricked
of yearning air
Enter my heart
Enter my heart
An emptied tent in an open field
Vacancy draped atop
unyielding earth
This is my heart
Enter my heart
Empty my heart
~~~
© 2017 George M. Wallace; all rights reserved.
Photo by the blogger.
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