Nothing that enters me from you
can be used. The small white

pill I take each morning
my insistent moon.

I refuse, I refuse, I refuse
it chants as the spider swings

her dark star over my bed.
When I look out

from within the sculpture
of loneliness, I find you

have lost your sword. Pain
your shield, as if one hurt

could protect you from another.
But I am everywhere and sky

and you and light and we
are bright as any absence

pouring through
the empty spaces.