We wake to hangover’s daze
on a slow Sunday, the first hatchings
of Summer noted by haze on the lawn.
Lay three feet apart, his childhood bedroom
stares down at me. I am stuck in the web
of little league trophies, basketball posters,
cleats that fit when feet were much smaller.
Last night’s clothes left on, bunched
and tangled under sheets and blankets.
He stirs, smiles. Hand on my waist,
pulls me close in our familiar, friendly
cuddle- commonplace in our days as
housemates, now our short time together
is sacred. His head dips, aligns lips,
contact births thoughts of the unspoken
ghost- She, my best friend.
She, who was his.
She, who ended their relationship
with our lease.
Forbidden smooches send me to Manderly
living in the shadow of Rebecca,
and I cannot stand the skeleton
sunken somewhere between us.
Like a wave upon the sand,
I collect my belongings
and am gone.