“PATCHING BRICK”

Sometimes, it’s all you can do
when the wall begins to break up
and the cold air outside seeps in.
Sometimes, it is concrete.
Other times, it is wood, plaster,
toothpaste, spackle, or pages
ripped out from a book.
The best of times, it is yourself
in that hole, filling the gap
between warm and cold.
The worst of times arrives
at the best of times—
as the entire wall
decides to fold,
with you in it.

You are an inadequate
support. You always have been
and you should have known better
than to put yourself in that situation.
All the king’s men
laugh in your general direction.

narrative poem written on 04-10-2011 by: on mattkane.com
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