Asunder Poem by Deborah Cameron

Why would any creature mate for life?
Does this arrangement settle longing
Or placate God, or swaddle the young ones
against teeth in the hungry ocean?
Are we thus assured, we will continue
In some form, and is that the point?
Seas come and fall away again,
And the furnace of worlds and stars
Burn out-what is 'will' and 'do' to this?
What of those mated ones whose lot
Is to come unmingled,
who lose to anxious waiting,
the curved neck,
the rising wing,
the sweet-licking muzzle?
But you—you, with your arrogant mouth,
do avow
That I am merely half,
cleft for your pleasant tongue.