The Last Touch

I try to remember it. I wish I knew
it was the net of your hand as we walked,
your head sighing in sleep at my shoulder,
a night ending in your lips and limbs around me.
Instead it was probably just your fingernails
on my palms handing me the car keys,
your shoulder brushing me aside
in the kitchen, toward a sizzling pan,
your sock feet stumbling over mine
while vacuuming before the kids’ bedtime.
I wish someone could’ve told me
from the dark reflection of the kitchen window
which time was the last time, no matter
how small, so I could take one more second
to breathe in your breath from under me
or feel the sting of your big toe,
whichever came last.

Devon Neal (he/him) is a Kentucky-based poet whose work has appeared in many publications, including HAD, Stanchion, Livina Press, The Storms, and The Bombay Lit Mag, and has been nominated for Best of the Net. He currently lives in Bardstown, KY with his wife and three children.