Her cheeks


I approached her with some delicacy
pastel cheeks straight from Rodin’s canvas
and she approached me as if I were a meal

had I caught that falling star?
every notion of what we were to become
wrapped up in that streak in the sky

one more time around the bend
the train that goes through
remembering her, again

eating up the nights until
there were no more left to spare
our stars let us down back there

“For a little while I felt pretty,”
she said and I touched her cheek
just before she bit my finger

watercolor by Auguste Rodin


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