If you look up another word for hankering
at synonym.net, are you then perhaps pale and unhappy
with a worn-out corduroy jacket; a doomed poet
who hankers and gazes through a misted window-pane?
Tick tick tick, not the sound of a loved one’s heart
but the heating that has been turned up.
But there’s a draught in my cardboard attic room
mice rustle, at night I mummify myself
and listen to the groaning of creaking beds.
My downstairs neighbours are doing what people do
who are happy, or if not happy at least together,
there is no other word
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