Fatality

c

I think I’ve charged too little for my heart

Underestimated its propensity for love

I fell into the surge of your callous pupils

Into the anemic grail of your upward facing hands

A ball of thick, governable yarn

A philosopher chasing hemlock

In order to escape fish-eyed dreams

Is devotion too much to ask?

By your calculations we must keep

A certain amount of space between

Lest our electrons declare an alternate path

You will live just as you did before

Only less out of consideration

We will inhabit smaller alcoves

Migrating in and out of the periphery

In a mating dance that promises

At least one fatality