sleeping i dream of your perfume
so strong it wakes me
sweating and trembling
the ache in my stomach
a hollow sucking pain
where the cosmic
melon baller has emptied me out
gutted, wasn’t that your word
what traffic does the living
have with the dead
and really
which of us is better off
you, who’ve departed
or this fragile mist
that rattles these bones
and pretends life
——
Words and Feathers 
Vapors can dredge up some powerful memories! Fantastic poem and how you use your words always delights me.
Thank you, Rose. I’m glad you’re still coming back for more.
I get bits and pieces of free time throughout the day, and there’s never any rhyme or logic as to how I peruse blogs. I enjoy visiting your blog! — one of my most favorite past time. 🙂
Very well written poem 👌🏽
Thank you!
While reading this, phantom smells of my grandmother rose and I literally stopped breathing for a minute. If you can touch even one person like this, I think your work has succeeded! Brilliant job!
Wow, thank you very much! Smell is so primal, isn’t it? It cuts right through to memories we think we’ve forgotten.
Poignant and perfect, Crow! A pleasure to read, as always… 🙂
Thank you.
Wow! Cosmic melon baller, that’s wild!
Thanks. Sometimes I think of wacky things.