We should have
Broken refugees, dropped
On war-torn land,
And its Earth was fertilized
By hidden land mines.
In the beginning, we were children playing dress up.
Love possessed an Aristophanes' affect, but we controllably hid behind screens in our costumes.
Yet, the longing was dramatic. And it bellowed alto from somewhere deep.
Innate and magnetic.
Two souls masked by old shirts and big-brimmed hats tipped low: we buttoned our collars high until we choked.
Then we struggled to walk in our oversized shoes.
An atom bomb exploded the first time our flesh collided. We were blown back by the impact, and the concussion never faded.
The mushroom cloud of emotional chaos fell slowly like ash. The smoke eventually enveloped us, and we were blinded by tear gas:
We were salivating mad. Rabid and thirsty, we were anemic rodents starving in a desert of vultures. We had scavenged empty scraps and picked our teeth with splintered bones, and we fought an insatiable hunger until we finally lost hope.
But then a feast for infinity was laid between us.
Frightened by the extra sense birthed from joint consciousness, we began to stutter and second-guess our intuition. Unintentional and God-given, our eclectic wit of crescent thoughts (fragmented and frayed) became whole and complete.
But the full circle that formed as an effect from our partnership stormed hysterically one day. Ultimately, it took pause, directly in front of the Sun, and we got lost in its eclipse.
the New Moon
Of the sky.
And together, we were reborn.