Poem - Earprints

Earprints

They find them at crime scenes

Like fingerprints,

Left on doors and windows

By the intruder, the burglar, the murderer,

Listening for signs of life before the break in.

On floors and surfaces

They show where bodies have lain.

Imagining the scene

Where your infidelity was perpetrated

I find them too.

Dusting over your body

The brush picks up

The unmistakable pattern

Of his flesh and cartilage

Marking your thigh.

I detect the distinctive curve of your helix

Printed on his chest.

Earprints cover the sheets and pillowcases.

The dried sweat means they come up clearly;

The dust sticks to it. 

There’s an earprint, too,

On the outside of the door,

Showing where someone

Eavesdropped on the scene.

That earprint is mine.

You can find it there always, emblazoned,

The incriminating trace of a jealous man

Straining at the threshold       

To the secret hotel room of your heart.