The kitchen is quiet
dust visibly swims
in the sunlight

I pour a cup of coffee
and start constructing
a to-do list for the day

I finish my cup of coffee
in the bottom of the mug
a dead silverfish

I want somebody
to dance with me
so that I may stop fumbling
between the shaky hands
of your memory

on another note
I want to wake up

stained with your kisses
engulfed by your scent
safe in your tired arms

I want to comb my fingers through
your nearly blonde stubble

watching your eyes open
adjusting to my delicate touch

If you come in the summer
do not leave
the moment the leaves begin
to abandon their trees
do not leave me
with your memory darkening
like an unfortunate tan line

If you come in the fall
do not leave
shades of red and yellow
embedded in my palms
do not leave me
contorting each syllable of your name
in search of warmth

If you come in the winter
do not leave
shaping me like a snow angel
born beneath your absence
do not leave me
heavy with guilt about
my inability to melt

If you come in the spring
do not leave
letting me bloom
under the artificial light
of your promises
do not leave me
thawing at your touch

If you come
do not leave
when the seasons change
do not leave me
pining for reason
do not leave me
do not come at all

Breathing in deep
where I am
on an exhale
I find myself
in warrior pose

but I am thinking
about us
shavasana
on your new carpet

I wish I was
flexible enough to play limbo
with your past and win

Instead I struggle
for balance so
when the instructor calls for
warrior three

I collapse into child’s pose
I collapse into your memory

Mommom pours peroxide
on the shirt covered in
kisses from the grass
at my cousin's football game

she says
"this is how you remove stains
from clothes"

Grandma puts the last clean dish
on the drying rack
opens a fourth can of beer
from a fridge dressed in magnets

she says
"this is how you remove stains
from your memory"

Mommom shows me how
I should paint my nails
tells me men like girls
with soft hands

Grandma shows me how
to knit
tells me to make sure
I keep myself warm

Mommom is hanging picture frames on the wall
Grandma is watering her herbs
miles apart
they both sigh
and brush their hands on their skirts

text message to make me laugh
hot and sticky outside
I walk you to your work truck
you kiss me
the sun rises

hazelnut coffee
the leaves are changing
so is your mind
we share a bottle of beer
you kiss me
hung-over
the sun rises
so you close the blinds

hazelnut coffee
he adds sugar and cream
I think about calling you
instead I tell him
I just like to be alone
the sun rises
a little later than usual

hazelnut coffee
my bra is the only ornament
on your Christmas tree
I am thinking
about how good your hands are
at unwrapping
the sun rises
reflecting off the snow

hazelnut coffee
January like a blanket
I drive to find your arms
we watch too much TV
but I never think
to say I hate TV
and I love you
remembering that I like
hazelnut coffee and sun rises

Laurie says that in high school
people used to call her ocean
everything she did came in waves

she tells me that she never crashes in the right places
I want to tell her to crash on me
that my heart will be
nothing short of the perfect shore

I know that my beaches are covered in rocks
that have not yet softened to sand
so instead I warn her
I am too afraid to swim