Oh, Such Frail Shards That Spent, We've Kept

As years bacterialize their short tally

in memories of Marie, Dawn or Sally

and youthful potency soon erodes

like compost driven by crueler snows

these loves, those limbs of former years

whose emergent tragedies we revere

the younger us we idolize

in snapshots sealed by other lives

let's stop a moment, now

'twixt our curious altars

and stare at the twins

of our sepulcre:

That was never me, and less was you--

but loved the same, this lie we knew.