Hammering a Nail
I put the sharp tip upon the wall,
Facing it away from me.
I’m afraid of committing to this task,
But do it out of the necessity.
Sometimes, the slant isn’t right;
Sometimes, I chip off the paint;
Sometimes, I land a blow on my thumb,
Then assure myself: it’s only quaint,
This strange thing that I’m doing.
Then I drop the hammer at last,
When it is all done, I realize
I don’t recall why I ever did start.
This is how I love you, sometimes,
And how I try to write about you:
Like it’s painful, and like it’s absurd,
But like it’s something I really need to do.