My ear wants "stub" to say "stump" no matter how many times I read this one.
N's thin hope for regrowth after the collapse of a relationship is heartbreaking, but the shoots or switches offer hope that they will make it, in spite of "being severed from a vast, old certainty." That bugger life, always coming along to take our certainties away...it hurts like hell every time. There is a sad beauty to this sonnet. I lke the shift from the rotting tree to the "less corporeal timber" crashing down to the ground. The rhymes pull me along down to whatever is left. Sigh. This is a heavy one, yet it carries the light of regeneration.
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