by Lily Baughman

You remain in the skin at my fingertips, neck
Stained blue from your hair dye,
Skin faded black
Like your memory, edges blunted and
Vignette

When that one hangnail I pluck
With my nylon teeth
Grows back, it will do so
Without knowing you,
What it’s like to be
Devoured, fissured, into truth

Until my lips forget the way it feels,
I shape your name with too many vowels
In the valley girl hope that you haven’t left

And when I wash my hands I do so gently,
And the soft caress of the hard water
Lingers