I am the imbalance
The flaw
I am the ladder in the stocking
I am the beam in the floor that creaks
The wilted leaf of spinach hiding in the crisp salad bowl

I am the ballerina’s crooked back
The tiger’s unfinished stripe
The last, crustless piece of pie
That no one really wants
Someone polite will eat it
And he will feel unsatisfied
Wanting more

But I cannot give you the crust
And you will feel unsatisfied
And I will feel helpless
I am the spiderweb someone has walked through
I am the space under the door that lets the wind in
The bike whose chain has fallen off

I am the space between us.