why do we always remember the lips
the glimpse upward, the sigh, the gap
between their teeth? Never the whole
face, the angular pinky in the porch-light
the coarse hairs on a neck, the sight of a
jaw in motion, concave cushion when he
talks, never the whole body,
a single word, a single sound, a small
intonation, a rumble that stays, stays



stays.