The Old Life
The waves collapsed into themselves
with heavy rumbles in the darkness
and the soprano shingle whistled
gravely its way back down into the sea.
When the moon came from behind clouds
its white full-moon’s light
lightly oiled the little beach stones
back into silence. We stood
among shatterings, glitterings,
the brilliance. For some reason
to love does not seem ever
to hurt any less. Now it happens
another lifetime is up for us,
another life is upon us.
What’s left is what is left
of the whole absolutely love-time.
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