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Comments about Delores Gauntlett
A Question Of Love
Back when I used to play doctor: I am
passing the house with its blinds fully pulled;
the boarded up window facing the road
nails out the past from what they say love did
to the girl at a city school. Three years
she’s been in that room with her diary of hurt.
What stalks her mind robs her of speech.
Like a slate wiped clean, she returns to the bed
that is her fort against the overhang
of whatever fills her mind with its long night.
To hush the shame, no one’s invited there.
That house: above eye level from the road,
with whitewashed stones up to the ...