Oui, in missing you i am missing me, Cherie,

For you are of me and my guts:

I have only one kidney, the other yours,

One you knee—my shit knee’s snugged between socks in a drawer—

One me ventricle, one thrifty you atrium

[And yours, of course, the hand wrapped

carelessly

about my heart, pumping it daily secondly]

I met you and

promptly

cleared out the clutter garage sale style

to make a nice cozy you nook—

so when you, my dear, have chosen absence

to water my heart garden you—

my love—

are missing

from me.