dearest Claire,
I write to you.
these days are a raft of bombs,
a choir of seagulls,
a murder of darkest winged beasts
but all I really want to tell you
is that my life feels exquisitely small
and insignificant
against the dark backdrop of
Heavy Things.
you see, I keep writing,
I miss you terribly-
more than if I'd lost myself, in some kind of fatal fight
(which maybe means that I care more about darkness than light)
