I’ll Forget You
Julianna May
I’ll forget you in a day or two;
the way your hand cupped
my neck’s nape, drew me close
like strings of a knapsack
pulling together.
I’ll easily forget your freckles,
constellations covering the space
of your cheeks.
Each brush of your hand
on my shoulder, knee,
burned the wooded maze
around my heart.
I won’t dwell on the ways our tongues
danced a tango quickly
to the beat of my heart.
I will forget you in a day or two
despite the fire dancing
through my body.
