POETRY

	Moment of You

Beside me you sit as light
slants through plate glass windows
leafing our backs—white
gold. Your eyes, too many espressos

slam my solar plexus. I've only had water.
Lodged in my biology somewhere
You aren't a plague really.
Just not the usual company.

Every day the cells die, Dear. Soap bubbles
bursting one by one. Each unfurls
a moment of you in my brain, rustles
sweetly as it sloughs away, curls

and molders. A dry leaf turns to dust.
Until the only evidence of your touch is this