You hugged me right
down to the bare threads
(look, I have worn patches
around my heart);
some stuffing leaked out,
(what’s left is lumpy,
a thread-bear of limp cloth);
my one last beady eye —
scuffed and broken by your love —
will turn others away in time;
I thank you for your love
which dragged me, dusty, off
the shop shelf and into your
bedroom lair. (I’ll be there
until you send me away).