I try to remember the sound
of padded paw prints,
foxes chasing rabbits
underneath trees,
shedding their leaves
across autumn

the smell of honey
and lemon rising form
a bowl of boiling water

but I can't,

these fresh sheets
should remind me of forests
and old wives cold remedies

but instead, your hands rest
upon them, skin brittle and
transparent , as I place damp
cotton buds to your chapped lips

thinking only of winter
folding before us, electric blankets
that burn through
to my thighs

leaving red marks that spread
like sly smiles from the corners
of your mouth

when they took
the wires
out