I'd forgotten how jealousy
looked on you-
a brooch of colors
pinned to her dress
placed just above the breasts,
or a thin bright ribbon
trailing off a simple straw hat.
and how it had smelled-
too much perfume in an
enclosed space or
lemons leaping off the branches
to bloom at her feet.
and how it sounded-
like too much music
for one room to hold,
and so it had to be shared
with somebody
who wore everything perfectly.
I forgot
how it sat on your tongue-
a deadly insect
spreading its wings,
and leaving me
to dream of her.
But jealousy does not suit you.
It is feeding on your soul
just to find the words that
you cannot say
in my presence.
Behind our backs, it glows with arrogance.
It shines with
a false sense of brilliance
that, I hope,
will never captivate
anything more than a
dead audience
and a bad poem.
