Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.)

by Claire Dockery
Who knew your atoms
could taste so sweet?
that the body
whittled down
to its essence
would be sugar
memory of touch
that consumed us?
that you comprise
me and others,
that our bones grew
as you receded,
as I forgot
your scent slowly
only for you
to swell up
among my molecules
contagious lily field
that blooms relentless
against your absence?
that you could resurrect
yourself in our hunger?