a list of things I have to recount to you (10)

1)  this list is written by me, for you, and I hope by the time
you read it, I’ll be gone.  if I am not,
do not read on.

2)  in june, the flowers seem duller, colors muted in the soft haze
that lifts from the ground like fairy mist, and I can remember
when you asked me to stand in the circle of mushrooms.
it all seemed so much whiter, the air that is, and there was this chill,
like some slime running over my arms, that froze me to the spot,
though my feet ached to feel the grass again.  don’t deny me
those simple pleasures.

3)  two winters later I couldn’t see your face through the window
of your car.  it was fog, draped over the glass like silk, maybe before
I would have said milk, but now I would say  ().
there was a birds’ nest hanging in the branches above your roof,
and I watched the wind tear it down and crash on your windshield.
you stuck your head out of the the sunroof and didn’t see me,
because I wasn’t ever there at all.

4)  you kissed me when I didn’t want you.

5)  I want to leave my fingerprints across your body, and maybe I did,
because when they found you, you were dead, and the only clues
were the skin cells stuck underneath your fingernails.

6)  I’m not sorry, but I am sorry, and I’ll keep the dried roses
under my mattress until you claim them.