Because i am lawn furniture

And you are Antarctica

The two of us have ample rime

But not a single drop of warmth in our blood

We lived through all the bright nameless, blameless places

And the turning of the *****

The year we fell down

In an illusion of separateness

Is where we came to know

The fragile silence

Within a map of echoing glass

Pointing further out than we once thought

Everything ravaged, everything burned