Joseph Massey in House Organ
Broken Villanelle
O the ache — the light
where your face
in memory waits.
A song for what
cannot be named
became everything
your face contains.
A song for what
cannot be named
like light dissolves
into a blue pulse
and soaks the page.
Your face in memory
became everything
the page contains.
O the ache — the page
that won't bend to song
and shreds to memory.
Your eyes tangle
the margins.