by Helen Ross

They say there is one red thread
crossing through time and space
down which fated lovers run.
They say that I am the moon,
and you are the sun, and that
we will circle each other
through dawns and dusks and
only catch glimpses from the
corners of our red-stained eyes,
that we are just barely husks
of living lies without the other
and that I carry you with me
wherever I go. They say to speak
slow, that you follow me yet,
that there will come a time
when I will pause for breath and
you will interject, that when we
find death we will instead find
each other, the darkness at the
edge of my days. Darling, all I wish
is that you live in an interesting age
and are led down winding ways.