The water came in
sideways
to lay in bedrooms where we slept,
separate, a reflective surface
on the hardwood floor: You,
a calm buzzard humming
for
the pleasure of consumption and I
a lingering elipsis fading into bedsheets.
You saw yourself wavering, a Narcissus
to be plucked, vased,
and forgotten.
And I dipped my finger into the pools
and hoped that you would feel the echo
when it fell onto your lips.
