breaking up is hard to do

[terresapart]

this carafe of wine
is the display of twice
times one the other can divide

so under hide of conic runs
of town breaks washed with rain
the gilded stands, tanned all the stoneturned roads
to open long on blank and unresponsive seas

inflamed hearts, as these
unknown to their own morning mirror glaring
a silence rupture to pass
the distances, the infinite sum
between these wine cups and folded hands