THE DAINTY MONSTERS
Michael
Ondaatje
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A House Divided
This midnight breathing
heaves with no sensible rhythm,
is fashioned by no metronome.
Your body, eager
for the extra yard of bed,
reconnoitres and outflanks;
I bend in peculiar angles.
This nightly battle is fought with subtleties:
you get pregnant, I’m sure,
just for extra ground
—immune from kicks now.
Inside you now’s another,
thrashing like a fish,
swinging, fighting
for its inch already.
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