I know
that I shall never see
a three word poem
as sad and lovely
as the one I saw
in early puberty
on the knarled trunk
of an ancient tree
carved in hollow letters
over a pierced heart --
“ Joe loves Mary”
today thinly shrouded
beneath tear shaped
drops of dried sap
from that old
wounded
oak tree.
Poem by Tatul Sonentz
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