Was it you?
You think I forgot
The iron bed
and those yellow sheets
The whiskey bottle on the night table
The quiet music coming from
The next room. Your clothing
on the floor, A fragrance of
only you.
Whispers coming from the leaves
Of the oak tree at the window
And your whispers, too, in my ear,
Did I bite or was it you?
That, at last, I have forgot.
MEK
Aug 2008
