If Like A Broken Plate Poem by Christopher Woodall

If like a broken plate we lie apart
I dream my dream, she reads her magazine,
A narrow passage opens up between
Two unforgiving coastlines. The long chart
Of our night is divided at the start
And does not mean a thing. Outwards we lean
Toward the stars and the light that have been
Sympathetic to solitary hearts,
Unless some passing shadow triggers
Our love, and we close up fast as a clam,
Shut like the halves of a book whose figures
Once secret are judged profane and are banned,
And sealed we will survive the rigours
With our pearl of knowledge, on our island.