Fragments for a windowpane (First Act)

I. Did we who did and were and not

In the beginning,                          

no thing.

A slip of light divides the darkness.

I emerge                                           

you do.

There would be a dog,

a third,

a fourth,                        

death                                     and water. 

Everything  invented.

Everything                                                                        

                                                                                                            lost.

II.  (One is not one for one but two)

Of course it was a love story.  They always are.

At the ice edge

At the ice edge

pain

and rough slabs of poetry.

*Big shout out to Jack Wong for the phrase "rough slabs of poetry." Thank you.

Today was the first day this season that we woke to ice on the pond and it did not melt during the day. A bitter northwest wind froze cloth to the line beneath the clothespins, turned sheets to boards.