Only Lovers Left Alive Poem by Steve Woodward

If I could know her every motion,
The absences in between
Where it may so cruelly take forever
To seep between the cracks,
Hollow like the ‘o’ in God.

To love naught but her ash and dust
Or linger like a scent
And pray for our salvation.
From bygone days where goodness spent
Upon the lawns of our lords,
Amidst the fools on the sands.

To drink then without cost
Of existential sorrows
Known to the only lovers left alive.