The heart that skittered in my chest
betrayed the world before my eyes;
the few who I had loved the best
had spun away to alibis.
I looked and stared, I stared and looked,
but nothing came to focus clear;
the wind still smelled as fate had cooked,
and I was neither there, nor here.
The truth was, I had lost much truth,
but hearts that change look much the same:
as I burned under self-reproof,
consumed to feel I was to blame —
There is a hatred we can’t ‘scape,
for it is everywhere – and whole —
a lurking phantom in our shape:
the forfeiture of joy