Nicole Cartwright Denison

TO THE MAN WHO BATHES WITH ME:

I would call Parchment our color
not in the ordered and sanitary way,
rather in the manner of the flame-burnt edge
of vellum used to fuel
fires long extinguished.

Consent to begin with a salve in repose--
an absolution
accompanying the glossalalia,
the translation
of Hyssop
and flesh.

Curse softly, dear. I hear every word
echoing on the tile.

Nicole Cartwright Denison lives on a trout farm and teaches writing in the mountains of western North Carolina. Her work has appeared in The Pedestal Magazine, wicked alice, Poems Niederngasse, canwehaveourballback and 2River View. When not gardening, or coddling her blog, she's an editorial assitant for Lily.