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.


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