Skip to content


I remember you –
the way your body


like rain

into the bed.

Sheath after sheath –
the smell of the room,

the shape
of your frame.

You disappeared

the mattress,

the fabric
to water.

Your hair flailed
like a fan,

your fingers were spiders,

the lack of iris
in the blue water,

black pupils placed
on lily pads.

I became the blackened onlooker,

the wavering shadow.

Published inBlogging & PoemsMy Poems

Be First to Comment

Leave a Reply