It is time
to admit we've gone broke
on the asking.
The intervals between "How
could this happen?"
are collapsing.
these pains to be ours,
what shall we
go out and do
with the recognition?
Instead of
false lights, could we turn on
the darkness?
Should we lean
on this hardness? Commemorate
the solstice?
On the longest night possible,
it's a luxury to ponder,
to walk through our own
well-lit darkness,
and to notice
how much we will cherish
all the outrage,
the awkwardness—
even the cruelty
and callousness of lovers
after the last
lovers' quarrel is
over.
