Like Grandma’s Perfume
(“And the
sweet smell from the perfume filled the whole house.” John 12:3b)
Lose me in time, lose me
over the bridges of sorrow.
I still bruise too easily.
I no longer want to be planted; unroot me and
let the winds swirl me to a more suited clime.
My memories have been looted by fairies and demons
who designed these bogs and fogginess.
My subscription is
cancelled,
now let the rope unwind around me.
This tomb is too crowded,
I recognize the bodies all too well.
Resurrection has answered me back
in waves like grandma’s perfume.
Tears puddle in this dank
cave,
and the air around misbehaves like a slug.
Though I may still weep without reason,
take me outside where breezes kiss them away
like a puppy’s love eases the
disease in me.
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