Progress is
progress. The answers
look correct, but
nobody is asking
the really big questions.
of information
does love contain?
Could the nature
of our relationship
survive a black hole?
Can't you somehow
just picture it—
me, still begging
your forgiveness
as the universe rips;
your assent,
that eerie radiance
smeared out
like a sustained pitch
all along the sensuous
song of a faint
event horizon?
