Katrina Kaye

I memorized your face,
so I can find it when
I close my eyes to dream.

Each freckle and discoloration,
the squint of eyes and the way
they shine my reflection.

I memorized the shyness in your smile,
the wrinkle of lip, scar of dimple, crack of tooth;
They are with me still.

I memorized the angle of cheekbone,
the cut of skin stretched,
the soft roll of forehead.

I know these parts in your absence.

I conjure them on the nights
when my desire to be a good woman
is broken by the solitude of my cavity;
on nights when I want to remember
not only you, but the person I was
in the proximity of your energy.

Little girls are not supposed to
fall in love with little girls and,
despite the growth of distance
between now and then,
your memory lingers.

I find myself a scratch on record,

set to repeat.

to repeat.

to repeat.

to repeat.

“Memory” is previously published in #TrueStory 2015.