there
the deconstruction made ever more elusive our moth eaten infinity
a labyrinth there was no need to stumble into
but stumble we did
over words
over stacks of books or bones or both
over lovers lost long before the longing for getting lost
in the primordial black of being

loss
the language of whatever god dreamed us alive before dying in her sleep

there
the unraveling reality i snarl at in the mirror of my soul

there
the end painted on the walls of our childhood homes

there
any place other than under the only cosmos ever known