Kaoru Kawano (1950)
I wake with a sudden flush of heat
upon my skin (so suddenly the dream
is pulled adrift) a thought left incomplete,
an odour at the edges of the room:
these dog tail days of summer bind
sweat to salt to tears (they taste
of every desultory day I spent confined)
but let me perfume the damp corners
of hope gone to waste.
When did the promise become ordinary?
All subject to this wear and tear (my edges
are ragged as seams unpicked) and no balm
for a life when I’m only halfway there.
What faint scent lingers in the crook of my arm?
Bits of Imagination ~ Perfume is a prompt hosted by Susie Clevenger in the Imaginary Garden.