Pastiche
For National Poetry Month #22
i remember cooking
pasta and crumbling bits
of cheese into it
hoping you would like it,
then kissing it off your mustache
as you spoke my name
i remember the taste of Plump Jack
on my lips
as we made love
across a table
underneath a tree,
a storm raging outside
i remember the smell of Old Spice
on your favorite shirt
the one I put on
when you went away
I cried then
just a little
because the memories
weren’t enough to
fend off the coolness
of night’s promised
loneliness
copyright/all rights reserved April 22, 2012 Audrey Howitt. Do not use or copy without the express written permission of the author.
