Long ago our cares were random swallows in lovely heaven
questions with feathery wings
drifting in the very distance.
They passed after a little while away from our vision.
They divided and fell into thickets unanswered and out of sight
when we shut them out with our kisses, locked love in our fists,
and held ourselves warm to each other in the afternoon, not looking.
But now look, love, look now!
The questions are not far or random any more.
Thousands of birds have closed upon us in great ragged wars.
Let go of me! Slap them away with your fingers.
The shapes are falling! beat them away from me!
Slack, slack.
How are arms are thin. How the luck has gone out of our hands.
The cold is as hard as claws.
Answer!