Last words & epigraphs
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Moira EganYou ever come so hard you start to cry?
And he beside (or under, or on top,
to be more accurate) wants to know why,
or what he did wrong, what will make you stop?
What do you say at awkward times like these?
I'm crying for the great love I once knew
who smashed my heart, a lovely porcelain vase
that's ugly now with cracks, and tears of glue?
Or for that innocence I lost, a bud
that couldn't blossom in November's cold?
How certain things once shed, like petals, blood,
are irretrievable? How loss grows old?
Do you tell him it's the knowledge that the chasm
between you can't be bridged, even in orgasm?