the stream still runs thick with salmon
even in winter when it hasn’t frozen over,
and the blood oranges still rest in the bowl,
right where he left them.
their coats hang over the back of a chair
and there is water on the floor
and rain in his teeth
when his mouth meets hers.
and the bed still holds their indentations
as the frozen ground will keep the imprint
of a child’s snow angel.
things are quiet so that when the rain water
transfers from his teeth to her open mouth,
it is like a tiny storm.