estee lauder, youth-dewA Poem by h d e rushin
On my mothers dresser are so many empty perfume bottles.
I thought of bottles as disposible when empty, with the exception,
they were once filled with uranium 235 or bio-waste.
She wanted to tell me a story of scents
but the interfluve of dads picture,
she and he standing not even inches apart
and looking in a similar direction between
raised her arm and passed, gradually,
a retired bottle by my face.
See what carries on between the
continents, she said.
I laid down in the small room with
the bowl of dusty filberts,
nic-nacks and worn toys
hoping to recall;
little brown boy,
take me back.
© 2012 h d e rushin
Shelved in 1 LibraryAdded on June 1, 2012
Last Updated on June 1, 2012