queen size bed. Not a foot
or a leg to scrape. Not a blanket
or quilt to drape over a snort
or gurgle.

Freedom is an empty
closet. Not mashed pants
and stained shirts, or trashed coats
worn still clinging to
the hanger When was the last
he rang her?

Freedom is an empty
chair at the table, when man
and woman were able to talk –
or gaze at the lover
and not.