I'd had a shower when I returned,
having known full well
that the lazy perfume of your audacity
would remain.
Still, I wasn't equipped
for the scent that rests with me
today. Marked this way I know
that everyone can smell your tarnish;
velvety and bruised, like old silver,
and I have to suppose
that in your complacent bed
the semblance of my shadow is already fading.

Jacquelyn Arnold

If you've any comments on her poem, Jacquelyn Arnold would be pleased to hear from you.