My Poor Heart
Stephanie Arwen Lynch
Iīve a poverty of heart, my love.
Your Prometheus-on-a-rock reach
Rips my chest asunder again.
I would have you be my earth--
My rock to stand upon to reach
That dear, dancing star up there
But there is a dearth of trust.
Will you stand firm for me?
What eloquent phrase for why
You let me get halfway up
Before you removed, my dear,
That earth I depended on--gone.
As if I might overtake you
All of you, your fierce solo self.
Swallow you up whole--disappear you.
I lack the salesmanīs jargon.
I am a mermaid without a tale.
You credit me for things not mine.
Iīm forever paying othersī bills
Leaving me a poverty of heart.