Scents That Remain
Her room is empty.
But her scents remain.
They beckon
Memories,
That ply the pain to the edge
And wrench it out
To stand like gravestones
And glare in moonlight
On the face of he
Who stands, beguiled, in the doorway
Weeping
Retching
Spiraling in a sob.
by Jeanne Poland
8/21/11
