I woke into a nightmare and you
were there, smiling into dark,
cavernous spaces, already calling them home,
translucent fingertips pressing my
stretching walls and me, aware of your
distant vibrations, unsettled and afraid.

I cannot conceive you as reality:
gauze hair, infinitesimal teeth,
film of flesh, aqueous eyes–my eyes,
staring back at me. I will
disengage you as my blood
creates you. I will unmake you
cell by cell as you swell
inside me; removing your need, your
wish, your want, piece by piece;
and make full again your only home
with my apologies.

Breathe by Maria Doering