This spot won't out
from on my soul a killing field
red-ripe for harvest -- fruitful
bearing us to death of our contentment
ushers in the pain of truth
demands a full accounting
of the deal we made for sake of
sanity and partnerhood.

Now all unbalanced is our
universe of knowing what we could
expect of one another
dropping hearts' desires on doorstep
of our happy home.
Now the key change heralds audit
testing waters for a shock
of never-halting need demanding
our attention from the care we'd
quite forgotten how to tend each other.

Like not knowing what you have
until a birth casts into contrast your
neglect to check the course of keeping
up your guard regardless of the cost.

No use getting sentimental in this calm
before the onset of a storm of love and
pain that bears down hard until
it bears the child away
and leaves us quite alone

together