Roman à Clef
for Sylvia
Sometimes in the bath, you come to mind.
Feet, framing the drain, painful symmetry.
I think of books and ovens and things,
but more than you, I think of your
mold. That girl, more an idea.
I remember how sweet it was, to share
you with her, to only be
betrayed. She gave you to others.
High school girls!
Sylvia, you may have even laughed.
Years since I’ve touched that
knife, feeling your fingers over mine.
Poems, buried behind newer works. I
try to remember outcomes, but
memory and all that. Roman à clef. It
ends where you end.
I see that now. When I talk to
that girl, I pretend I don’t still love
her. Because, Sylvia, she is you.
And more than I could ever live with.
Alex Sobel is a freelance journalist. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Foundling Review, White Ash Literary Magazine, and The Stray Branch.