Chasms
The long years’ gaps between the times that you
And I were born, our ages (ever spread)
Will never be erased—till the debut
Of death for one of us. I’ll go ahead,
Statistically, since many thousand days
And nights are quite a rift separating
Our experiences, canyons of haze
On different continents. Love-negating
Mortality awaits all partners, friends,
With plate-tectonic adamantine force.
I hear you asking, “Why focus on ends
When love destroys oceanic divorce?”
I speak of births, ravines, and deaths because
I stretch and grasp you with defiant claws.