Love Song: I and Thou
Alan Dugan

Nothing is plumb, level or square:
    the studs are bowed, the joists
are shaky by nature, no piece fits
    any other piece without a gap
or pinch, and bent nails
    dance all over the surface
like maggots.  By Christ
    I am no carpenter.  I built
the roof for myself, the walls
    for myself, the floors
for myself, and got
    hung up in myself.  I
danced with a purple thumb
    at this house-warming, drunk
with my prime whiskey: rage.
    Oh I spat rage's nails
into the frame-up of my work:
    it held.  It settled plumb,
level, solid, square and true
    for that great moment.  Then
it screamed and went on through,
    skewing as wrong the other way.
God damned it.  This is hell,
    but I planned it, I sawed it,
I nailed it, and I 
    will live in it till it kills me.
I can nail my left palm
    to the left-hand cross-piece but
I can't do everything myself.
    I need a hand to nail the right,
a help, a love, a you, a wife.