Fellowship

Ten years and a day
through the torturous increase
Who was not with us in order to be the same in all cases?

There was no one living in this tenement until we
falling asleep to the sounds of clanging pots
the memories of diverse parents
and their too much fighting or their not enough

Quiet aporias, the rattling calm of domesticity
running waters and turning pages in the den
glasses resting precariously on a warmly recognizable face
which will tell you of a tome to remain her secret possession

Who was not with us against the procession outwards?

We shared domiciles in removed continents
over separately overlapping times between
rooms which concealed a goodnight kiss
a philial reverie, an agapic itinerary

We lived under various fallen roofs
with partitions from families before this one
and extended our beams from your wall to mine
defining our shelter in solidarity and solidarity

Who was not with us who was not against us?

Desaparecidos, proud comrades
brethren in sacraments, particularly
that of being dropped from airplanes
stowaway Saint Stephens plummeting down to Stone
as another roof came tumbling

Churches against the onslaught of
fluorescence, synagogues against forgetting
similarity and dissimilarity, good and
ambivalently bettering sceneries of catharsis

Who was not with us be damned (we’re glad this is not in our power).

What we perfected in our times was lived imperfection
unpolished, unrehearsed convergence
proving for all the eschaton for now withheld
and withholding our proof from the malignantly precluded

And so the fellowship continues so long as the poor are with you
so long as you keep those lamps trimmed and burning
for we don’t know what else to do but persist
in the torturous increase of Love.

I recognized your laugh alone in a crowded hall
ten years and a day after you had died.

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