you never would admit it.
We kept up a jagged
conversation over miles
and miles of imaginary
space. Anyone watching
would think we were in the same
room, only because
they couldn’t see the deep
gulf, the mountain cliffs
that came between us.
We knew better. We had
our own system, rigged
with lights and signals.
We kept in touch.
All the while you pretended
nothing much was wrong,
and I saw the world
ending. No matter who
was closer to the truth,
those gaps and valleys
are gone now, and our
geography is tame.
I like it here
where nothing promises
more than it will give
and we can live
with ordinary pain.

When you left me
darkness opened
up at my feet
and I froze
just where I was,
robbed of any
destination,
lonely as the man
in a space suit,
or the deep sea diver
who must carry all his air
with him. I can’t
come up too fast
or I will die of grief
blooming like a deadly gas
in my blood.
What is left here
anyway? The hills
rolled out flat
into deserts, the rivers
pulled back into the earth
leaving dry beds cracked
and crazed
like glazed china
hot from the kiln.
I will not bend.
I do not care
what rules I break.
I will stand here
and howl my loss
beneath the stony moon
until even you
will hear me.