If we are the end of death,nThen I’ll pause and savour this breath.nIf we are just fistfuls of dust blowing our way west,nWe are also as good as a guess.nnA pagan and a cook had to share a body.nShe managed to hold it together quite admirablynShe took to seeing crows commuting over the citynAs signals against misfortune and folly.nnCould I be the lover you leftnBefore we had even met?nLet’s not get out of this bed.nLet the traffic go on without us instead.nnDon’t be cynical about love when things go bad.nDon’t be cynical about love – it’s all we have!