sweatshirt

i am rationing the smell of you now

your gray gap sweatshirt sits quiet in the corner and
i try to wait to sink my face down into it until
i’m floor-bound until
i absolutely need the high

this is all i have left of you now
the hoodie you peeled from your body as all the water leaked out of mine
a last kindness before you froze over

they’re numbered

these fiber-bound cells of you
these bits of incense and mowed grass and garnier fructis shampoo
these paltry pathways to your butter-soft cheeks, your talisman belly

soon
my nose will have extracted all it could

soon
despite palms pleading
and cilia scrambling
i’ll smell nothing