love, of the real kind
is --
bitter, is dignified
as the ground, burning

like you, you and me

are we allowed to flee? through
the barricade, streets
covered in bits of brick & glass
shards, sight of the rifle fixed to aim

at the rising hind of a hare. but my eyes:
stuck
blind under the flashing lights
burn
in the stinging dust

the sun has set/ in this city
in my ears i hear the marching thump of blood
running to the ends
of my limbs

and it always was and is, me
me and you
me, my, i, and mine,
the power games we play

(i don't want to cling apart from you, not a single day)

(like magnets we are drawn tightly before pushed apart)