Parts of Us
The crease in the bedspread, the fold in our pillows,
the bends in the doormat’s bristles, the off-angle shoe by the stairs.
The lip stain around a wine glass
and toothbrush borrowed, still damp.
Your tissue, scrunched, unfolds gently in
the bin like a seed amongst pebbles.
It’s your cough in the air,
your hair in the shower.
You left an indentation,
a mould and mark of you
with handprints that cover the walls.
You’re in that paint and part of this plaster.
A door creaks and you’re the hinge.
An envelope drops through your mouth.
Your skin is in the dust floating,
awakened by a closing curtain.
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