I'm left to contemplate the nature
of an open window- the warmth
escaping, December invading,
the neutralization between my bed
and the screen. All those squares

are straining a lake effect winter,
all those squares are dancing
last year's dances in the absence
of lovers. It's boethian, baby.

It's only in the lack of bedmates
do the minutes count, do the shadows
weigh anything on the sheets,
does the lack of anything become
the creation of a beast: a girl making
something out of nothing.

12/05/2003

Author's Note: Boethius asserted that evil is, in itself, nothing.
- it is rather a lack of a substance; the absence of good.

Posted on 12/05/2003
Copyright © 2025 Christina Gleason