Moving Empty Space

a lump of comfort
fitting under chin
into between breasts
golden brown
lacking the only hands that give life
a soft dead thing
lying with me

I had to push
the body into the box
stiff
where his languid grace
was my naked need in flesh
never afraid to beg
for my love
how can I be without that
now

stuffed
everything looks okay
on the outside
feels okay
silken
a nest
that patch by the eye
color of a blue baby
unbreathing

Both animals curled
on my bed
touch me
they asked
he is a soft dead thing
floating
and the other
he is

Melissa Ray, 1997


More poems...or have you had enough?