Making Up Ground

I was in love once, honestly.
One afternoon we stood in each other's
embrace and I remember I was
overcome with terror at the thought
we would one day be forced to
separate, through the vagaries
of time, the complications of
old age, the necessary finality of
death. We would be torn apart,
this much I knew for certain.
What I don't know with any certainty
at all is how love fled from her
so completely, when it escaped,
why the loss of it, in its
intangibility, was, in the end,
the catalyst for our division.
Not wrinkles or clogged arteries
or dementia. Loss of a certain spark
was all it took to bring down
the artificial edifice of our
marriage. Most folks have fond
memories of their wedding days.
Mine are not particularly fond;
I remember her saying, "Fuck you."
And all the rest that came with
that sentiment. Why we decided
to go ahead anyway remains
a mystery. I woke up one day
irreversibly altered. If such a spark
as left us leaves you in turn,
take heed. Without it, there's
an awful lot of ground to make up.
If you don't start today
you'll never get there.

(2008)