One Fine Day
she woke up earlier,
no alarm needed.
scrubbing, meticulously showering,
each movement a ritual cleansing
of the dark parts,
the soft parts soon so softly
seen & sought by darkly fingers.
a dab from the alabaster jar
in every strange spot
his nose usually goes.
slip the thin yellow dress
that won't stop
the warm breeze of breath.
ringless fingers clasp the watch,
the tiny hands holding
an hour between their meeting.
they will walk the beach today,
she will smile in the shade.
the dress will rest in the sand
while nymphatic jealousy
invades every beast in the glades.
"where are you going?" i asked her.
"just for a walk," she said, eyes probing
her purse for a smoke.
"want me to go?" i asked her.
"no," she said, "i just want to be alone
today, to think about things."
she was wearing the yellow dress,
it used to be my favorite.
"that's fine," i said.
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