*love forgets *
she thought it was summer
but the house is buried in snow
he combs his fingers
across his bald head
she turns the mirrors
to the wall
he tries to remember
he must wear a hat
she boils the eggs
till the pan runs dry
the house smells of sulphur
he finds himself
in a place he does not know
tall buildings
steel and glass
a strange old man
looks back at him
she remembers clearly the scent
the feel of her first lover’s skin
--
sharon brogan
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