I smooth the blue walls
with an unsteady palm
pacing around the room.

I let your face come back to me,
our latticed fingers and tongues,
me curling your hair,
you stroking my cheeks.

Now some nights I embrace the quilt,
trace your countenance on the pillow,
stroke myself to recall our glory.

There are times when I want to
smash all the clocks in my house.

Then I think of you again,
a laughter that goes on,
a smile on a hard face,
a bare back at night breathing.

When we split I could not deny
that I mostly wanted sex. You left.
Only then my heart rose and like
an unwanted dog it chased after you.