Undone I cannot rememberwhat she wore that night,or the smell of the moonat her wrist,or the blur of her cheekgrazing the pillow.I cannot recall detailsof her voice -what was saidor promisedonce the heat of Julynested in the curveof my tongueand pressed backher hesitation.But I remember the shock -the last tremorof bricks and skincarving an arcinto our breathing,shaking the walls of her roomand the sound of the worldcoming undone.