Oxidizing minerals form
A pattern of Rorschach tests
Across my chiseled face
As I lay here quietly
Holding the roof over our heads
And the seven miles of air above it
While you raise the family
In the home beneath
Where I am overlooked
Not as warm as the bones of trees
Nor as pure as the crushed bones of cattle
I long to be seen
To be read like a book
A favorite novel perhaps
Or even one full of recipes
Hand-written by grandmothers
Deep in the snow-drifted winters
Of Appalachian log cabins
Adjacent to frozen prison cemeteries
Where thieving grandpas were laid to rest
It really doesn’t matter how you read me
Like an heirloom cake
Or a heroic snowman
But yes
I long to be loved
And yet I feel nothing
I am a cold steel beam
Load upon load
Weight to bear weight
Holding up this house
Where lovers once loved
And dreamers once dreamed
And thieves did their best work
Stealing all that we had
And leaving us with nothing
But modern architecture
And a room with an echo
Of remembered love
Which will have to be
Enough
