Monday, June 22, 2015

The Smell of Her Perfume


He woke up in jail 
to the smell of her perfume

He held his head with trembling hands 
pain screaming like a siren in his ears
Cold sweat danced on his forehead
as his stomach mounted the
occasional escape attempt
All this consumed him until he realized 
the private cloud of sweet scent
that calmed his body and mind was
the smell of her perfume 

He tried to piece together what happened
but all he had were scattered images
a bad ending
and the one thing that let him 
escape back into sleep was 
the smell of her perfume

He chased her image 
as it floated between dreams
while a voice deep inside screamed 
“she was here, can't you smell that?"
but he could summon no vision
to satisfy a mind unconvinced
she had left him with anything more 
than the smell of her perfume

Four cold walls
one metal door
one surveillance camera
the glare of one humming fluorescent light
three snoring drunks
no shoelaces, no eye contact
no dignity, no pride
the only thing not surrendered
into a plastic bag of possessions was
the smell of her perfume

He woke up in jail
at the end of one story
and the start of a new one 
and staggered bleary eyed into the hot morning
a long way from home
$7.00 in his wallet
wearing last nights clothes
and the smell of her perfume


Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   June 2015


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