And Then A Cliff Where I Fall Again. Poem by RIC BASTASA

there is way to hold your hand
after, we
make love, when i pull my body away from yours
i lose
grip of your hand after trying to keep it tightly into mine
there is no
we
or us,
there is nothing permanent in union,
to lose you is to
find myself,
alone in this struggle for
who i am
and what shall i be, after
discarding what notions are there
about nudity,
about me getting into you and yet
there is no
self in there just a plateau and then
a cliff where
i fall again.