Some things in the world,
no matter what,
just seem indivisible by two.
Canada geese, ox and wagon,
paper and ink.

Sugar and molasses
to sweeten our cakes.
Vinegar and salt,
to digress from red wounds.

It always rains on more than one,
same as a rainbow shines.
What good to blow
the hunter's horn
with only one steed
and one rider astride?

At least I used to think so,
but that was before
we became an I.
Sapped the shade of a canopy
of lofty, leafy trees
to a single
bristly and roasting chestnut.

Before the we became an I
duets were our song and dance.
A satisfying melody
and merry chorus
of prospering, prospective words.
Now guttural sobs rattle chains
of synchronized discord
and with bleak house soliloquy
speaks the dawn.

Undivided and invincible still,
solid you stand.
Blessings or curses
I can not begin to count
or
the stinging scourges of whips
on white flesh in hell.
Subtraction
is the only thing I can do.

You were and are Alpha.
The beginning and only one.