Here, there.

Here, there

I have been here for hours,
I could watch you for hours,
beneath the eye of the moon
and in the night's soft places.
I could think there were angels,
I could believe in dreams.

The sun, indifferent,
crawls across another's day
to show this heaven a hell.
The tearing of bodies,
the tangle of limbs,
and in the mud
a teddy; yours it seemed,
grasped in impotent arms
amid the screams.
A defiance, in its way.

The rage, and the rage
and then the weeping.