10.15.2020

a joy defined by separation

There never really was a “we” or “ours”; 
whatever each enjoyed was separate: 
a drizzle’s drift, the slant of arrowing showers 
on a hot road, on roofs, made them elate, 
but with a joy defined by separation— 
the languor of a glittering afternoon 
when a bay’s bowl is full of glittering coins, 
or a white road is paved by the full moon, 
the same delight that separates them joins 
without conversion, but close to happiness 
in accidental gusts that made the leaves 
agree unanimously with one green yes, 
yet made a dark division of their lives. 
The clouds shone altar-white on moonlit nights; 
he was the stubborn sacrificial victim 
of his own hopes, like fireflies whose lights 
are like false stars that, with the daylight, dim.

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