Loss

I know loss like a dream I dread
but never dreamt; the spoon that feeds
honey just to strike the tongue with metal;
the thunderclap that appears before
it clasps around my ears.

I know loss, so intimately,
its place beside my pillow
has become practice.

There's no shock in being less,
no more ropes around the throat
to keep my head up, but still
too many knots between those dear
and the bars of fear that keep me
right where they want me to be.

And it gnaws. Rats still rummage,
hollow me out. I'm an empty lump
of bread; there's no use of me.
Crush me with your teeth;
burn me in boiling soup.

12-11-2013
12:00 PM