I have two friends a hurting
Knotted together in separate pain
Their past a chord of memory
Impacted without gain.
He says yes to an open heart
Yet snidely casts the first green dart
To one awake in the dizzy night
Sick on the meaning of love in life
Of how in those years together
She never dreamt of a life forever.
Jealous, shadow boxing for each right
Of cold refusal and delight
At each imagined deed
And snarling savage creed
They tread like moths on cabbage leaves:
The bruising need to clear the air
Begets this vain academic snare:
When the crisis, so to speak of silence
Is greater than the fear of violence
Can one ever ease the chafing reef
That binds a lover to his grief.
Gar Jones: 1984