An Image Of

You and I

sitting atop thin, barbed wire

like little love birds with claws

scalloped from erotic warfare.

You, on your side, peck ravenously

for staples, wire, and memories.

I collect the blood runoff in viles to hang

from our pointy necklace.

You snip away at the line until you cut

deeper than either of us imagined.

There is a great gap in things as we fall.

The fence- we thought it was foolproof-

until it snapped.