what radiance i’ve possessed in your eyes
has naturally dimmed after these 30 years;
and so has yours — in mine, these last five,
if i am being truthful,
which you know me to be,
guttingly

once the solar star, now, a mere lighthouse on the other’s shore,

do you still wonder what you are?

you,
my sonlight, are still golden, burning hot and bright,

but these blue lenses of ours,

and these blue talks of ours,

reveal
we are animal, elemental,

sometimes too human, and fragile.

only, you fail to acknowledge another possibility, another cosmic continuum.

Our once-trinity
of briefly holy beings
now not unholy,
but scarred, a/stigmatized
by each other, we three, we.

where is that rose-colored
Christmas Eve telescope?

why not put down the magnifying glass,
the microscope, the slides, all focused on

on our cell, our nucleus?

no, that is not us, not for us

imperfect, we were never — revealed not,

but we do examine ourselves, inspect our origin, interrogate our lives, me and you,

we two,

that’s what separates us from — them

You and I are willing to split the fucking atom

— at all cost, at great consequence,

but, might we not also live to experience the vista of us, all, in the long view,

in the macrocosmos — the mean of us, the meaning of us — the fucking average of us?

that math has favored us, my son,

we are not willfully ignorant.

and,

as you end your third decade, and begin this middling age, in this inauspicious time on Earth, know at least, this:

i am both your Anticlea,
your Thetis,
you are both my Odysseus,
my Achilles.

my Gemini son, we exist in this duality, consciously /

you alone,
hath my sacred heart
unceasingly adored.

My June and always, Sonlight,

We know what’s what.