(...that I am simply tired of looking at. And Paul had to go and mention sestinas. I'm not happy with it. It isn't done. I have been working on it for at least a year and a half. That may seem like a long time, but certain poems ask for more time....Time, I guess, to abandon it here...for now.) Love lost you across a bloody ocean. I am hidden from you, my love, a murrelet gone from the nest, lost to all the world, dreamed in bloody battles that boil and rage across imagined fields of poppies. You color those blooms with absence. You drain those lands, fill them like oceans and dance in my dark thoughts across the miles that cleave us from our love-- that have torn us into bloody halves for the peace of those lost in propriety—all those lost, willful souls that we still love, you and I, despite their blind, bloody ignorance, their minds an ocean of not thinking of all that love can do, how it can reach across any gap, bridge and arc across any space, rebuild any lost tie if we let it. But our love can not bear the deceit that you and I must swim in. We’re ocean creatures in air dragging bloody limbs. Our hearts limp through bloody shoals of dry ghosts. We crawl across deserts’ dust, longing for ocean depths but the two of us are lost even to memory while you fight with honor every day. Love? What do the free know about love when they do not see your bloody eyes in the dark, can not hear you calling to another across all these nights alone? I am lost in this empty, arid ocean. Now you, whom I’ve ever lost despite love, are farther than gone across a distance greater than all these bloody oceans.