Lack of Presence

Scantly powder-light,
a fragile goose egg in my arms -
fractured crannies for eyes;
always weeping, sleeping or dead.

No bearing at all,
I could have pitched her
to the cosmos
like the angels she adored

- but numbly
carried her to bed

instead

forever hauling, mourning -

a weight that never was

‘neath such h e a v y
lack of Presence.

Written August 13, 2005