if we have (it, and) until we die

the wind calls my name
calls all of our names

who's listening?

it rattles the window-pane
abruptly

how many times, now?

it sweeps clouds across the light
obscuring, sending shivers 'cross the plain
then
reveals our birthing pyre

the foretelling of it all

how many times, now?

combining combinations in contemplation
though eloquent, without clout
all muscular invocation falls away
soon to bring, quick to doubt
no doubt

how many times?

it doesn't matter
if we want

only what we want
only if we can maintain these awkward positions, again and again
today

it is always this day

how many?

one, two