My memories of before are all backlit
I choose to believe
we are in the process
though the cars feel as though they stand
still on the track.
We discover the divided path was a loop
returned to each other again and again.
Our interpretive dances leave out
and become drunken on incomplete
Your heart still beats beneath the stone
I caress that wall as if to give it comfort
I'm learning to self-soothe.
to lay beside me
where I comb the air
in case your trailing monads are twirling
about your left