today's draft

Other Difficulties

At first, I was afraid of your skin,
slight chill from your pores that eases

the heat of a slap. Our scent shared
the acidity of fruit, shock of orange

against white. In Love and Other
Difficulties, Rilke says no one in this life

can help another, that we learn this
repeatedly, perhaps we’re here to.

Today my lover swims in a wooded lake
with a woman he used to love.

Sometime this week, twelve roses
went bad. The insistence of their floral

stench. Today I have clean lines,
a blank page. The blood in my womb

softening around the memory of metal.
The dream of the small, sterile room.

Quiet of letting go. I take in breath
for what we're building. Red robe, yellow

flannel pillow, taste of salt on the cake
we shared on the same side of a wooden table.

Whole, white crystals added complexity
to the sweetness, letting the flavor linger.