Put One's Finger In The Dyke Poem by Mark Heathcote

When love turns to conflict where can you run
the walls of your defences they're built on
the same ground that's eroding your gumption.
Putting one's finger in the dyke, anon...
might stem the flow much further down the line
but once the air is poisoned it's systemic
you'll go grey overnight, lose your hairline
considering crazy things like arsenic.
But do you, yourself, administer it
look for help, squirm in their reluctant arms
when lovers are this divided, this split
no amends can rediscover their charms
why is it opposites attract then don't
or is it simply once they've been parted - won't?