Lost Heart.12.7.10 Poem by Roy William Gotaas

To be exiled far from what one may call home
Is melancholy sometimes, June-Paulette.
Travelling litters the planet with pieces of one's self,
But where exactly did I leave my heart?
It’s out there somewhere on a baggage carousel
Or in Left Luggage in some dusty terminal.
Under a rarely-cleaned hotel-room bed
Or at the bottom of a guest-house wardrobe.

One shouldn’t take out so intimate a thing
If one doesn’t want to risk it’s loss: or,
If one does, one should at very least inscribe it
With Return to Sender and address.
So I would send you something of my heart,
June-Paulette... if only I could find it.