I have memorized the coastline
of your key, fingering it
in my pocket all morning.
One chink reminds me of the gap
in your teeth. Another, the space
between your first two toes.
This whole jagged ridge could be
your heartbeat on an EKG.
Lunch hour, I drive over,
slip it in your door,
sit in your closet, smell
your clothes, unbuckle,
run your silk between my legs,
lie on sheets we melted on
the night before, when you reached down
and whispered, This belongs to me.
Both poems originally published in Nobody’s Hell (Hanging Loose Press).