darling, bastard, sweetheart, enemy,
brother-in-arms, last man on earth,
is this all our fault?
has our final breath, exhalation of humanity,
led us to this, our armageddon?
days become weeks become years
on the other side of death, afterlife,
things mean less and less each passing day;
whether or not we spoke then or speak now
is all smashed glass in the face of eternity.
two sides of one coin, thin-edged,
north and south, equator split,
night and day, dawn blending into dusk,
you and i oppose one another and still
we sweetly mix, become one man after all.
this is our fault, all of it, for being human;
it is in our nature to seek and destroy.
it is also our fault that our heart beats again,
because it is, too, in our nature to rebuild.
dusk leaks into breastfed sunlight day,
the earth continues to tip, spin on its axis,
and life thrives in the grasses once more.
warm honey earth, give us back our dead,
and remind us that we love each other.