IT WAS OVER

when we did
not have sex
in my dream
we closed down
the grocery store
halogen dark
on the harbor
and were lying
on the blood orange
and the grapefruit
you spoke to
me and I
pushed your hair
off your brow
as in waking
black streaks
on the orange
peels your face
always too hot
near mine like
breath on glass
we looked out
the sliding doors
onto the sea
but I held
even when you
touched my hip
and the party
barge panned by

Sarah R. Stockton is an MFA candidate at CalArts. She lives, writes and teaches in Los Angeles, and her website is sarahstockton.space.