Teddy Bear

i


Her cabinet's ready for keeping him,
her younger night's constant companion.
He's begging with sad, button eyes -
one more hug.

One more hug, she hears him again
in a climate more indecisive than her past,
but she's already outgrown
all that fluff.


ii


The eight-cornered shadow hugged him
like a spider curls when it's dead.
When time broke a yawn,
the arms of the morning stretched
inwards from the opening door
and took him out while he smelled
a hint of his own, older fur.


iii


Red light districts sprout
like amanitas in a forest of skyscrapers.
He searched for her in the city.
He searched for her on streets
gone wet from fickle monsoons,
streets that won't get him closer to the lost.
She hid very well in her own room
where different throbs of colored lights touched her,
and corners had eyes watching
intently from their tables.
Lost himself, he quit searching
and surrendered to the bed, cuddling
with young, young girls.