All night, they wrestled
inside me, the angel
who pulls you in closer
and the angel who shoves
you away. They tussled
and grappled and pushed back
my stomach, my spleen, my gallbladder
to make enough space
for the brawl. What could
I do but lie there, moaning,
not even recalling which one
I was rooting for, just longing
for them to stop. In the morning,
they were both exhausted,
having rearranged each others
ribs. Each conceded the other
had a compelling case and
went out for coffee, leaning
on each other’s shoulders
as they left, leaving me
with an emptiness so great
a whole flock of ravens
flew through.