I remember you –
the way your body
fell
like rain
into the bed.
Sheath after sheath –
the smell of the room,
the shape
of your frame.
You disappeared
inside
the mattress,
the fabric
turned
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.