"To be not loved is the human condition,"

Later, later, 
grown fully, as they say, 
they gave her a ring, 
and she wore it like a root 
and said to herself, 
"To be not loved is the human condition," 
and lay like a stature in her bed. 

Then once, 
by terrible chance, 
love took her in his big boat 
and she shoveled the ocean 
in a scalding joy. 

Then, 
slowly, 
love seeped away, 
the boat turned into paper 
and she knew her fate, 
at last. 
Turn where you belong, 
into a deaf mute 
that metal house, 
let him drill you into no one.