On Losing One Another

On Losing One Another


I’ve made it my business to sprawl

Across the chasm we buttress now with agave arms

And antiphonal tones I never cared for.

I recount the days of the fences we’d climb,

The infrangible rime of sweat building on our brows

When last we allowed the sun to set.

I recollect the fervour, the outlandish murmur

Of my gut when, by the banister, you first descended

To me in light distended and meridian.

And I recall the distance, the inlaid persistence

As we kept tabs and no more, plectrum of hands

Thinly riding the glissando spectrum of muted need.

I see us now and wonder when last we climbed fences,

When last my gut tensed and relented to you.

The chasm is full – overfull – and yet our hands

Hold nothing but ground, and I can hear the sound

Of a blind luthier strumming, humming anechoic

To us, stoic as we are now.

           When, I utter, did we lose faith?