reverse

it cannot be the same, she waits in the one, while the other moans in the hole, in the floor, in the wall, in and out, himself between them, stands empty, and holding out his hands to both, now screaming, as the shouting grows and grows, louder and louder, with spaces of the same, open silence, yet watches on the edge of it, as if she were, not to be pulled in, a hand could stop him, he is angry, his face grows, as if a moon rose, of black light darkening, as if life were black, it is black, it is an open hole of horror, of nothing as if, as if not enough, there is nothing