our dialysis

the house looks different

without you. the air passes
around my skin in a different

circulation. the water hits my
tongue with a different penetration.

how my fingertips felt
on your waist until your
waist is something
that forgot itself, i will
how your arm dangles
at the edge of the bed when
you are so asleep, the sleep
that could never wake you; I will
how your eyes struggled to
open on sunday morning–
until i mentioned heading
to brunch;
huevos rancheros,
bloody marys. i will
i can’t find you in my walk,
or hear you at my ear or feel
the way my fingers
used to work their way across
your back towards the kitchen sink.
soft and rarely spoken.
lingering; barely on the
outline of something i
tried to grasp. i will be
that part that fought for
what you wanted.
you will be that part of me that
tried to forget who i longed to be.


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