I'm filled with holes.  I used to see spackle in my relationships

with people.  And I still have a hard time holding on.  But really,

there is nothing to be filled in.  Knowing this gives me some com-

fort because it means that I have to live with my losses as one

would live without an arm: being constantly aware of the phan-

tom lim sensation that wants so desperately to connect, to be

filled in, with flesh.  But ultimately, I have to survive by rewriting

the script that assumes the spaces have to be filled in.  They don't

-like the universe, my holes are filled with their own energies,

forces fields, and pulls.  The challenge is to recognize this anti-

matter as some kind of sustenance; to find in holes a certain kind

of completion.

KP