Although someday
Love
is what
all this
will have been for—
it doesn't take
the load off.
it still can't be the goal.
After all,
it's not
like—God
is some
renewable resource.
You and I
are old
enough, by
now, to know—
black
won't begin
to describe it—
nor empty.
immaculate stars
don't
just explode,
they leave
precisely
unfillable holes.
