to all the men I've loved before V ///

You stood at the end of a grassy cul de sac in salmon coloured shorts with your left arm raised up in the August humidity. My right hand rose to greet it in response. This was after I knew you paid your todays in tomorrows and before we lost the baby. That night I waved you away while the Mexican nurse prayed the rosary between my thighs. I recounted the season we slept like kidneys in the yard, clay soil marrying sweat on our necks. There, the Big Dipper and the Little. A ladle for you and a spoon for me. Can you feel this? You tell me the story of the scar across your face, a knife, Amman. I run my fingertips in its valley. This is going to hurt. Try to smell the honeysuckles in the garden. It will not be this way for long. Jesuchristo so much blood. Just stay with me.