Rebekah M Rykiel

Today, There’s Construction on the Sidewalk

Clothes are drying on the line
outside while you make me pancakes
in the morning. You hum your favorite
tune and behind me, pop music plays. My nails

are your favorite purple. You
called me lilac last night
and kissed my pink to red. My lips are still
swollen and I can taste 

your scent. Cologne clogs our
heaving. I don’t think I’ve ever been this
dizzy. The room twirls
around me. The pancakes burn, the cherries 

are still in the fridge. My socks
soak and I can’t smell you on my skin
today. My hackles heighten 

and chill me. If you were here, I would lick
your tongue. That way, the lies
can’t follow me to my bed. Your pillow is still
there—a dirty white flush against 

my own. I turn my head to your spot
on the mattress but I’m met with last
week’s sweat. I still.

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Rebekah M Rykiel is a fiction writer and poet from Maryland studying at Salisbury University. Her work appears in The Scarab, The Shore and Vernacular Press. She’s an assistant editor for Poet Lore and a poetry editor for 149 Review. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys watching movies and seeing her friends and family.