one night you’re there
there is no answer to where you came from
hiding in my mind so long and then like
Athena bursting apon my head
you stretch, sigh — and change the sheets
you had given all your love as you sank
onto the mattress — the body heat buring
the stale air of the room
can I breathe?
what are you doing
hiding away in those covers when
I am annoyed?
do you think you can live that way?
I am less than… what I am… to you
so turn, squirm, and groan for the one
who is not beside you, for there was no
name left by that creature that just
crawled out from under moments ago.
and in the dark of the night
when my side of the bed is cold
can you deny that you will find somebody
to fill that space?
– Chris George
March 1982
