when lies damned lies and atavistics (for Pam O'Shaughnessy)

under the spreading chestnut tree
I sold you and you sold me—Orwell

not alone not in isolation
bouncing back and forth
the origo of us of both
borne and birthed and transmitted

from one to one to one
warrior-hunter-mother in fire and fret
of the singularity that was both in one
no splitting no breaking of this

our covenant not in violence or love
no gods but us reached out to fashion

evil in clay or flesh but desire
only down the crying years we lay
together

drying on the mudbanks growing
wingfins of the halfheart assembled
together made the monster that wakes
each and every—who now can unweave
the whole world and time and point
stark as an angel and cry he alone
it is he who must not be

when I chose you
and you chose me
under the spreading
chestnut tree?

.

.