there is an empty cave
and a wall
where i would think your heart may be
within mine, absent
left
to be alone with the ribs
and lumbar vertebrae
It's snowing now
here, the night of Christmas
nearly 11 o'clock midnight
and in a polar opposite, in an oxymoron and a paradox
it is loud
and the snow is sleet
and the dogs are barking
and there is harsh sobbing where love should be
and we are coming to an end, you and i
and, in a paradox, an oxymoron, a polar opposite
we are beginning anew
praying to the Lord's and ladies
praying for a new start, a real one
one fresh
not false, like the others
and now, here, within a few days
we will slide our hands across the walls of our shells
and burst out of our eggs, being reborn again
conjoined now,
something anew.
