—Average length of a marriage in USA

If the trees are alive
and I am alive,
then what is dead between

us is but a passage. Having
taken part in it—this is in-between,
this conjoining of tired

eyes and wounds without
prejudice—the future is always
already. God persists by apology,

forgive me my absurdity,
for beneath the blurred stars,
the always drowsy horizon,

she told me there is no point
anymore to this charade, against
your will, against my will,

there’s nowhere left to go but bitter,
hands of fire, hands of dirt, this psalm,
this brilliant appetite.