Preliminary

the day has worn me

i place my hand on the beam
of this attic room
and imagine the wood
split from a ship

broken
to frame the land
delineating
ours
from theirs

unlike the strut
we saw in the abbey

constructed
as a joke
an insistance
or both

suspended by the beams
it purports
to support

winking the sliver
of air at its base
like god
not quite
touching
the earth

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