The cold this first fall
Like when we first fell
In love, the light still
Warm but the wind chilled,
Like a fresh cube dropped
In the great blue drink
Of sky, stirred by some
Round god for us edged
Now to bear it, life
On life, as we knifed
Through thick groves of graves
In search of a way
Out, the gate now closed,
Our steps all but one.

Originally published in White Wall Review 40 (2016)