I did not remember
spooning on the bed, watching Hepburn and Taylor
on the four-inch Sony that I had begged almost a year for.
And pretending not to notice
when your hand came to rest on my waist,
the studied screen forging my composure.
I did not remember
until the feeling lapped against my mourning
the delicate lace of your breath on my neck
our muscles
sweetening.
How we laid so still
belonging.
And just beneath the skin-- two horses
carving up the hillside, the wild
endurance, the rearing up, longing turning
upon itself, the dread of time.
They told me your spine snapped even before you hit the water
before the earth had ever rushed through your fingers
before I could offer myself to you.
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