after you died, a young man
came to the house, lay
on the couch where you'd
slept three years, so afraid
of un-waking in our cold, dim
bedroom, you said looked
like a tomb-- he leaned
in to kiss me; your picture
fell from the wall i laughed,
pretended i hadn't felt
you hovering, watching,
the only man who thought he
knew me, because i let him
he and i parked in his pickup
on a dirt road, eighteen-year
-old body beneath mine--inside--
i looked down, saw the blue
of your eyes cover his green
clenched underbite, thick
fingers, my locket knocked
against my breast bone--
thumping--like someone
tapping on the windshield
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