What is this pain in my chest?
It clings to my
breast – left one, dead one.
I am a half of something.
The other – leftover on some
sterile table, beside
some discarded gloves.

The heat has turned off.
One nipple I have, as cold
as a Christmas cranberry.

Listen: I used to dream in wholes:
great circular suns
breathing with open mouths.
Wide cat yawns.
Now all things

are split right down
the middle.
Half this, half that,
and in my dreams, look:
you have one arm
reaching out to me.

What is this pain in my chest?
I lean toward it like shelter.
It is something against the nothing.
And I will take that.
I will take that.

09/05/2004

Posted on 09/05/2004
Copyright © 2024 Lisa Marie Brodsky