this morning. Pacing
as you turned
your panties inside-
out. Slid one hole
up your leg,
then the other.
Cloudy silhouette,
still now – you
look at me.
Are you
crying?
When our
eyes meet, this time-
I feel
nothing.
And I didn’t
even get
to tell you, how
pretty your dress
looks, when
you’re on
your knees,
disinfected.
Amy Pajewski 