although devoid of carnality
mr nothing met a woman
inviting strangers to dinner
or maybe just looking
for a little company
he already knew them
the women never touched
always seen with someone
else’s eyes and comfortably
unspoken for that matter
they found a moment
of well-deserved quietude
in a cracked cardboard box
under the poet’s bed alive
like nothing on his bookshelf
hidden pilcrow 