Poem: 'Nostalgia'

After lovemaking there is that texture in the air like moisture, but dry. ineffable, untouchable.

already you have forgotten the feel of her hair the fingertips on your skin the strange scar above his right ankle.

already you have forgotten what his lips taste like

already you know that one day you will look back and wonder what their lips tasted like whether they tasted like anything at all because, you see, memories lie.

Lovers who know this are feverish, always. Groping, feeling, holding on to each other’s skin, hair, tongues, eyes, calves, constructing the memory while creating it.

So that texture hanging in the air right after lovemaking even, sometimes, during, is nostalgia.