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my senses can assault {poetry thursday}

liz lamoreux

my senses can assault.

sometimes I am prepared.

smell
lily of the valley blooms in May
(and in perfume, soap, lotion)
a freshly opened tub of ponds cold cream
yes, this will be you.

hear
a line in a song by Kenny Rogers
(“if I close my eyes, it doesn’t hurt quite so bad”)
your voice as I make applesauce
it has already happened, so I am ready.

touch
two pairs of soft fluffy indigo socks
(one mine, one yours)
a long flannel nightgown
memories of past Christmas mornings.

see
the picture in my studio
(we walk on the beach holding hands)
the turquoise on my right ring finger
I know you will be here.

but taste.

even my tongue can interrupt
the simple cadence of my day.

the cold, tart cranberry juice
hits my taste buds,
a usual event.

but today
it is this flowered glass,
similar in weight, texture, color
to the small faceted juice glasses
you would fill with this sharp red liquid
and put before me at the kitchen table,
mixed with the taste of peanut butter still on my lips
and the aroma of this tangy fruit juice.

the unlikely combination that leads me back
to you.

grief has no manners
no understanding of time and place
no tact
no empathy.
they say it comes in waves,
but I think it sucker punches you
whenever the hell it feels like it.

********

I started this poem a few months ago when I was eating peanut butter on toast and drinking cranberry juice out of a new glass used for the first time. Poetry continues to be a way to push through the grief. I stopped everything and just started putting the experience and emotions down into a poem.

Revisiting a poem and stepping back from it and finding a new phrase or stripping down an idea to the image you want to convey, I am enjoying this more than I ever imagined. I love poetry.

Read more poetry on this Thursday by visiting Poetry Thursday.