by Candice M. Kelsey

By the sink again
I imagine my surprise
at her camel
unsaddled out front.

The flutter of tunic
familiar door-slip cloak
and stolen idols
flooding the foyer
like lusty water
from this Mikasa mikvah
of shameless suds.

I would know
the spikenard scent
of my wet earth
patchouli princess.

Heat would steam
my glasses blind
to her foot-step figure
approaching
until hip and clutch
would unveil
my hands peeling
rubber yellow
like an opaque veil.

We have been standing
much longer
than seven years
at counters like these
elbows rough
sponging the insides
of cup after cup
purpled from repetition.

Have you also watched
sudden rains scream
staccato loneliness
out your kitchen window
heard the giggles of
children fumbling
in the garden
felt earth’s plates
crack for your attention?

How many lifetimes
are washed
down the sink
with lemon mint
lavender and saddled
to ancient owing?

Like Jacob I dream
of turning off
the faucet finally
to unglove
this desert heart
and turn toward Rachel.

Candice M. Kelsey (she/her) is a bi-coastal writer and educator. Her work has received Pushcart and Best-of-the-Net nominations, and she is the author of nine books. Her work appears in Bust, The Rumpus, Painted Bride Quarterly, Poet Lore, SWWIM, and other journals. A reader for The Los Angeles Review and The Weight Journal, she recently served as an AWP Poetry Mentor.