neruda 53, personalized

here are the necessities for life:
the man, the woman, their bread,
their wine, their table, their house.
a common scene, peacefully lit.

but tonight my parents spoke again
of divorce and all i could hear was
the silence of their words passing
in the basement, two floors below.

what of this love song, neruda,
and where are your dancers now?
my dancers are fighting late into the night,
every night, and both have become injured.

blood combined can separate and attack:
the body stands a tender witness
to the running violence of rejection.
this is the simple and the endless.