A walk through the grocery store

A man, empty-handed, carries a great hole
Into the grocery store. He pushes a cart

Into which he drops vital things: bread,
Oil, wine, coffee. Brownie mix for the kids.

Nothing goes in the hole
Which he sometimes carries inside

His body, sometimes twirls absently
Like a ring too loose to safely wear

That nevertheless will not fall off his finger.
Nothing comes out of the hole though

Sometimes he thinks that’s because
Everything has already gone out of it,

It needed to be that way to be a hole
And so empty it can’t contain even darkness,

Or a single name, or the weight
Of a hand on his back, the sound

Of water being turned off, the wing
Beats of an unseen bird, the as yet

Unknown cost of everything in the cart