For Mag 267
—
You and I
are sweeping up
the shards of something
blithely broken,
something shattered
into a thousand
jagged things,
by this weight,
this unshifting
burden of this we,
we nearly were.

There is leaving,
and then this,
Leaving, headed west,
chasing closure,
across the valley,
beyond which
there is no returning.