Surveying Galaxies Like An Amputee Poem by Mark Heathcote

Look, no big deal, once I won the jackpot?
Or synchronicity aligned to see
our body chemistries again landlocked.
What's the equation that brought you to me?
When two- was more than one mapped out as three?
Yet, moving apart like mountain snow drifts
surveying galaxies like an amputee
plotting a missing limb with detached fingertips
that now is too frozen, unconnected
to form a handshake or make a base camp.
Loving bosom to the disaffected
families go on, succeed after an avalanche;
bury each other in blanket silences
or those often frequent impolitenesses.