I’ve cleared away the remnants of us
thrown away the empty bottle
of cheap and sparkling wine
drank and consumed
with easy smiles

I’ve washed out the bathtub
removed all traces of pubic hair
some grey (yours perhaps?)….
and telltale lines
of dirt and grime

I’ve removed the champagne flutes
mine, caked with lipstick
pink, glossy…
And put them in the dishwasher
on the economy cycle

I’ve manoeuvred the soiled sheets
into my reluctant washing machine
watched with curiosity
by the resident au pair
who seems ‘oh la la’ shocked
that I have even the slightest idea
that the washing machine exists

I’ve unpacked my swollen suitcase
placed things in piles
The ‘dirty’ pile was smaller
than I thought it would be
If memory serves me well
it is about the size of guilt
Gently burying my face in its midst
i detect no odour of you
Sadly…..

I have stacked away the books
the journal, your memory…
I could only remember
fits and starts
disjointed moments
of solitary confinement
Asleep by your wide back
the largeness of you
against the smallness of me

And as I stepped into the shower
attempting to grasp the slippery soap
suddenly I could smell….
your smell
And just for a moment
I could see that room
that corridor
that bed
You, reading poetry in the bathtub

And as the last molecules of us
swirled down the dizzy drain
of my shower
i realised I had done a sterling job
of clearing away
every scent and sign of us
A little part of me wanted to cry…..

And so now…
as my washing machine spins furiously
i realise
there is one forgotten garment….
Red, not to be washed with the whites
You came just there
just….
there…….
on that T shirt
with one wide, white streak
and in my missing you….
THAT made me smile