Empty Spaces
The mites invade
a corner’s dust, an empty
space that serves to join
the walls. It’s just
an empty space.
And in that space,
my universe clutches stars
to hide behind
when situations soundly
split my minute void
that rides the harried world
seeking shelter
for its bleeding self,
squeezing strings of me
from my empty space
into busy oceans
where creatures
on a reef encrust each inch
of ragged jagged face
that spans their space,
then they look to mine
while lovers scale the
heady heights of passion’s
mount, with hungry
hearts; the man will lust
her empty space
and cast a greedy eye
upon my corner’s dust
an empty space
that serves to join
the walls. It’s just
an empty space.
And in that space,
my universe.
about the poet:
"I spend a great deal of my time imitating humans .. but that doesn’t mean I have given up the search for my space ship! I know I had it when I landed! I seem to have misplaced it somewhere between puberty and my firstborn. It is an older model, silver in color, and sports a bumper sticker on the dome which reads, "Earth or Bust". If found, please contact me at my nearest poem. I am desperate! The only UFO’s I have, at the moment, are in my freezer .."Unidentified Frozen Objects"! Thank you!" ...
