poem

when we made love, you said,
it was the scent you remembered best
beyond pressure of nails on skin
or sting of sweat on lips, instead
what leaves no evidence
outside of memory.

it’s the intangibles we recall best,
not the words that hurt to think of,
or the pictures freezing happy times.
i can remember so well the jangle of
keys as you approached my door,
the stars we watched on new year's eve,
all around snow sparkled like frozen tears.

and of course the scents, perfume nicotine
beer 100 proof vodka mangoes roasted garlic
pot new orleans at 5 in the morning detroit
in summer tears sweat passion scent so strong
it almost has shape it almost has weight i can
almost hold it
in my hands.

-Sarah Erdreich