Past Conversation
Sing to me, oh memory
of the small things:
the obnoxious cruch of gravel as I
pulled into your drive,
the hiss of the grocer’s freezer
as we perused Ben & Jerry’s,
the whimper of your dog
while he dreamt and shook
between our wrestling hearts,
or talk about the familiar flap of
his tail against the walls
in the hallway when I showed up late
to find your body
swallowing the whole bed,
your heavy breathing a soft growl
that pulled me under the covers.
Tell me of the sigh of a snowboard
on slick ice
or the thump of my ass
as I kept falling.
