She makes a seat less empty
That's the first thing to point out
Although not the first thing you'd notice
Empyreal and material alike
She's in complete awareness
Of her many cores
Even when gravity and her
Are double crossing each other
Simultaneously
In a zoological sense
Her skeletal structure makes none
It's believed nothing solid
Holds her body up
Yet there she stands
And punches and grabs
Despite her best attempts
She remains the favorite
Of an angry god
A spiteful one
That nods at the misfortunes
Of its creations
Late in the morning
Before she shifts off to bed
She looks out at her garden
Both disgusting and luxurious
Yet not much of either
Her fingertips wet and coarse
She touches her neck
Wonders how she can't feel a pulse
