It comforts them to think that we embark
in pairs, shuffling into the hold
of the boat, this creaking ark—
they who go solus
into the dark.
Noah and Missus standing at the rail; their animals;
their children, also, two by two.
Circumscribing the scene—
a foregone conclusion?—
Without form and void, as at the get-go:
that is all the tidings it is given
to me to break. Let
it be, Love.
This appeared in the December 2014 issue.