Prose SonnetMark Yakich
The shirt in the poem was real, the house was not, and the last line was stolen from a philosopher who was in love with a thirteen-year-old boy. The attic window from which the reader views all of this alleged failing in love was pentagonal, red and yellow stained glass. Many neighborhood kids have tried to knock out the window with rocks and baseballs, but it can only be smashed from the inside out.
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