The Portrait

The portrait’s glass cracked in the frame
After it fell off the nail in the hallway.
There was a pale rectangle
In the portrait’s place; I ran
My fingers over it, but it felt
Just like the rest of the wall.
I picked up the portrait, hazed in cracked glass,
And took it into the living room. It would stay
Against the couch for a week before I
Would get the glass replaced and rehang it.
I kept the same nail, just for posterity,
And for the chance of a second fall
So I could see the pale wall rectangle again.