Poetry 2014 / Volume 45

True Love — Joyce Janca-Aji

if I know how to throw the hatchet
so that the blade strikes precisely center
and lodges impeccably in the mass
of salvaged boards nailed
together with bent and broken bits
to the singular rotting beam of what once was
the south wall of the barn, then I should know
how to throw enough of a glance
to sever the unseen line
drafted to become the architecture
of our lives if not the whole
of the goddamned edifice.

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