Monday, April 18, 2011

Adrift

The sound of separation is silence,
as though two black holes are slowly
moving in unpredictable directions,
all activity, all voices sucked inward
through kinetic arms and legs,
through smoke signals, through
post-it notes, through emails and
phone calls — all sucked inward
to form a cold, ebony egg which
resists all attempts to crack it open.

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