Some far off dream…
Brought pupils to roll like marbles under
Dough
Still
Peacefully asleep.
The rise and fall of breath
Echoing like a
Conch shell placed
By
My ear…
Hmmmm…
Light starting to seep in…
Like
earl grey tea leaves
first
d
i
p
p
e
d in w a t e r
Wispy.
The scent of bergamot…
citrus with an unmistakable
brewing
muskiness
the feel of tannins reaching roof of mouth.
Hmmmm….
Recalling
Little hands holding my cheeks
“Mommy, look”
“I’m looking”
Your eyes beaming and your lips in a shy smile
Hmmmm….
The scent of you like…
Cooked
Macaroni on the top of your head
Warm
-pasta water-
Possibly, inbetween fingers
Breath like warm
Dry rolled oats
Put it in a vial.
Label it
Number 2
Because
Number 1 was confectionary – sugar.
The nuances did not reach
A
Postpartum
Mom.
How time has passed…
And how love has grown…
When you didn’t know
you could fill an
o v er f l o w i n g vessel more
by some miracle
Endlessly O P E N.
Layered Fragments, Becoming Whole 