17 November 2009


looking for arms to fall into,
my chest swells to exhale
the scent of my mother's perfume.

estee lauder waves away the alone
and recites the insides of greeting cards
with bent corners and bible verses.

the smell cloaks me in crocheted afghans
and lifts the heavy curls away from my brow
wrinkled with thought.

it speaks to me
with the rise and fall of her concerns

until my shoulders sink under its weight.

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