The fatal blow is struck by telephone.
A low comedy of excuses
finally gives way to a hollow metal sound:
“I don’t love you anymore.”

But who is speaking?
You shared my heart, my bed,
only hours ago.
The monsters who made you
are hovering near;
we were introduced just the other day.
They still have you in curious thrall.
And someone has decided:
Our love must die.

My world, my dream is crumbling
in this tiny room, beneath a flickering bulb.
You say you prayed for us,
but your god has failed.

I am shaking.
Opened so wide, shields lowered,
with time exploding.
I am being cast to the winds,
without explanation, without apology.

Did I ever know you?
My questions will echo through the years,
down De Chirico’s empty streets.
As for you, the rest is silence.

I am swept out to sea, pulled under
by a rip tide of grief and devastation.
I tumble and gasp;
hands reach out, voices cry --- all a blur.
My fate is to ride or die.
This journey can never be described.
Hold on.

Eons have drifted by;
finally the grip relaxes and I surface.
It is night, the air is warm,
stars swim above me.

I pull for shore, alone, unseen;
the dome of heaven lights my way.
And now I have reached the beach.
I am no longer thinking of you.