What is is time —Bob Holman
Absence was present while you were away
I felt the presence of absence surrounding my breasts
pressing at my skin from the inside out
emptying my veins and lungs
squeezing out the reverse image
of a familiar orgasmic howl
My body was caressed by a vacuum
that was not here when your body was here
and was not here before your body was here
I fell asleep with the figment of your touch
or the mirage of your voice
your ghost finger call tracing
transpacific fiber optic cable
to ring my night table
You traveled here in sleep synapses
snapshots of neurons or electrons
an everpresent chemical or charge
catalyst to nocturnal omissions
I felt your shadow blanketing my bed in darkness
morning light staining my room with bleached emptiness
My sheets filled with the smell of a vacancy
that was absent before you were absent
and was absent before you were present
Temptation buzzed outside the screen window
while the scent of your blood was missed
I learned how to be in bars
perched almost comfortable to the tune of
someonelses simile smile
some other memory of somebody with some body
some bonyhipped boy body with tempter hands and thighs
circling coming to cling and claw
some memory of bruises from the ribs elbows and knees
that used to dance with me before you
some memory that nobody can satisfy
the hunger for the fullness of the flesh of you
you the man you the body that fits
the softness of the flesh of my body
I dined on the taste of famine
that was starved when you were a feast
and was not salty when I swallowed you
and was never served before you were an only meal
I felt the presence of absence during time away
While you were gone I wrote a poem
that if not created by the presence of your absence
could not be lost and could not be found