This Blog's Namesake

2006


Sudden as Breath Collapsing


In the home you left, I am scoring pink
ripe grapefruit flesh - pulling our wallpaper
from spackling in pulpy sheets.

As it lands on the beige carpet,
fawn paint reveals itself
and I think of our first summer;
the grass you laid in too long,
the blush of your burnt skin
flaking for days, rubbed off to expose
the lightest tan.

I press my cheek to the drywall
expecting heat of blood under skin,
the cold startles my flushed face
and I find myself
no longer concerned with
sweat or sun.

I cannot help but imagine
stretching the skin of your back
across our ceiling. I picture it cooling
as your shadow melts away, your vertebrae
evaporating in the foundation, and you,
leaving only a tan in the wake of your absence.

Later, as the wall between our room
and that grass caves, as
hammer pulls nail from stud,
I hear you crumble behind me
sudden as breath collapsing.