Once I took him in

Once I took him in and he came, neatly  
Packaged in that little plated urn, which  
Seems so very small and far too tidy and  
Far, far too  still on the mantelpiece, given  
The hollow, metronomic,  ticking clock    
That counts the empty hours and days  

Once I took him in - he was so big and so  
Full of life that the ash floor seems stained    
With memories of his keeping and holding  
And being and doing whatever he wished;  
So I tell each memory my heart is a void    
Its cold doors will not let emotions escape.    

Once I took him in my mouth and he grew.    
Now I cannot remove the taste of him    
without losing everything which, frankly,    
I really would never, ever want to do  
Once I took him in and he came neatly  
Within me and is now,  forever, without me.