This Is Nothing

This is nothing.
I have wrapped it
in a bow. It is big

and so the bow is big
and the nothing appears
bigger than it actually is.

I am holding onto it
because, of all my things,
it is easiest to carry.

It is not light.
Nor is it heavy.
But it has heft

the way a gun
has heft.
I haven’t found a

good way to conceal
my nothing. I carry
it with me at all times

like an organ. I haven’t
found a good way to
tell my lovers

about my nothing.
Usually it happens
early. My lover

notices this nothing
and asks about it.
I say, “This?

Oh, this is nothing.
I am holding onto it because,
of all my things,
it is easiest to carry.”