Sunday, April 26, 2009

Spring's Cologne

late night thunderstorm
without a moon
blows scents of lilacs
throughout my room,
reminding me that
dead men hide in bottles
inside drawers and on top
of mirrored trays.
i'm the little girl
who knows this
from women of my yesterdays.
aunt rosie's cries still linger
like the memory of her
boyfriend once
held captive inside
a vessel made of glass.
i watched her smell the liquid
too afraid to breathe or blink
just wanting to smash the glass
and release him to the spring time air.

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