I lost god, and all the paths ran out
so there was only wilderness.
Passing my time at ground zero,
a dead foetus in a womb
waiting to be stillborn.

You have found your way back after what seems
an eternity: the road was crackling with frost,
at the pond in Duke Woods,
frogspawn swelling in glimmering ropes,
we stirred the water and began
the next day of our childhood,
long past wolves, but not yet
familiar with Cupid.
Unsure of what the stillness means,
hunched over her heaviness,
by the lavender gates at dusk
we see her, our neighbour:
she also waits.

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