Nothing

Nothing exists that does no empty.
Who are you feeling?
Who do you bite in the morning?
Our health?
when we're sick

is the body coming.

Our love,
a mountain fuming
in the ocean

like a graceful race such as
black. When the shores overtake
in the continent.
When the heroes are phony,
and our house less than rubble
will there be a bite, a memory still left?