GRAMERCY by Sharon Olds

The last time we slept together -

and then I can't remember when

it was, I used to be a clock

of sleeping together, and now it drifts,

in me, somewhere, the knowledge in one of those

washes om maps of deserts, those spacioius

wastes - the last time, he paused,

at some rest stop, some interval

between the unrollings, he put his palm

on my back, between the shoulder blades.

It was as if he were suing for peace,

asking if this could be over - maybe not

just this time, but over. (...)

from "The Stag's Leap"