She lay on the bed
under knots and moonlit notches
breathing like she just came
from the bottom of the ocean.
I tasted the sea on the tip of my tongue.
One of her languid arms fell to the floor
and twitched with diminishing frequency
like an autotomized lizard's tail.
A piece of the moment that will never grow
back the same.
This article appears in Feb 25 – Mar 3, 2009.