Watching you and the curve of your breast.
Want can be synonymous with hurt, both exquisite
and bitter. Turning and turning can wear away.
Absence is not like having never been, not even
close to never was. I write this with your pen,
the one that fell between the sofa cushions
while the turn-table hissed because the record
had played out. What stares back from the mirror
becomes the self. A glasscutter scores the glass
to ensure a clean break; in this way it is
like memory or a story learned by heart
that changes over time. The way being held
and holding are not the same.