For Gavin
Your absences are fangs.
They plunge in, then withdraw
My soul. I feel your mouth
Fixed below my jaw:
The space where you should be
Nestled in, my neck,
Is empty as my bed.
I do not expect
To wake and find a pair
Of punctures in my throat,
My curtains flapping, or
A gothic-scripted note.
Everything will be
Normal: window cracked,
A pillow on the floor,
Door locked. You’ll be back
Tonight. You’re always there,
Behind me, like the Past,
A shadow I can’t shake.
How can the Future cast
A shadow back in time—
Seize me by the wrist,
Twist me around to face
Days which don’t exist
Yet? Is that power yours?
I half believe it’s so,
Since you are reading this.
I need you now. Although
I am not certain why
I ought to feel that way.
I know that you’ll be back
To torture me tonight.
Not stay.
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