Are we crying over our breakup or the quality of this poem?

Are we crying over our breakup or the quality of this poem?

This afternoon, we pried ourselves out of our usual Butler nooks (slumped over in the Edward W. Said reading room on But 6, behind the desk in 401, or on the other side of the desk in 401, harassing the attendant) and journeyed into the stacks, looking for the right words to express ourselves (and the relationship troubles we’ve been going through recently).

First nights:
Consider the lobster,
Cretaceous carbonate platforms,
A world cut out with crooked scissors–
Undertones of insurrection.
A rift in time, then,
When we leave each other.
No sure victory–
There’s the colonizer and the colonized,
Citizen and subject,
An unsuccessful man.

At least we didn’t put in a line about why storms are named after people via Shutterstock