After Math
My
Darling,
I do say,
Upon my soul,
And in the after-
Math of this past winter,
When the two of us became
Enstranged like Roman letters,
Counting and counting as best we could,
But missing the word which would change our world,
For sometimes in systems there are flaws,
Bugs and blind spots that create holes.
Nothing can be completed,
One Goedel conceded,
But still that zero,
Missing in us,
Was the word,
Whose world
Was
What our love needed to be awakened to.
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