Love’s loss is br endless. br There will be no recovery br of the thing that is lost – br whatever shall I call it? – br something prime, key, critical, br required. br br In feeling this br I’m not alone. br Millions of people every moment every day - br old women, children, teens, our mothers, fathers, friends - br have this invisible br enclosure ripped away. br br Love br only has short use, now. We should expect it br to flick out, br the instantaneous blast br to rip our homes apart, the after-shock br to break our hearts, br the loss of what makes him, him, br or you, you br to bruise the innerspace we crawl into.