Small Change
Lynx Sainte-Marie
Your lips sealed against
my sentences, you left.
Your dimes and accusations
still warm and silver
against the carpet.
I sat, fingertips on
temples, wondering, when you
finally reached into your
coat pockets,
if youŽd remember our
untraceable entanglements:
forearms and elbows meshing
closely with ears; life
lines smoothed
over ankles and knees.
Ever the
calculating architect,
I studied your hairline with
my mouth, designed
blueprints on your
spine, yet,
never would have
thought it was your
heart that needed
the most
diligence.
