Memory

I want to forget

that day when supported by your tan, muscled arms, you hovered over me, as sky over earth, and our eyes locked.

Sky reached down into earth. Earth reached up for sky.

We made love more holy than any immaculate conception.
Bodies taut and sweaty.
Hearts pounding.

It was noon and birds sang outside your apartment window.
Our cries mingled with their song.

I want to forget

how wildly we made love and how softly we held each other after.

I want to forget

how steady and rhythmic were the beats of our hearts, beating in time.

I want to forget how you caressed the curve of my cheeks; how I traced the fine arch of your eyebrows.

I want to forget how we lingered, not wanting to take our eyes away from each other’s face

But every day, when I hear our daughter’s voice, when I see our daughter’ face,
I cannot forget that day we made love, knowing it was she we were making.