Saturday, April 20, 2013

Couldn't touch them

couldn't touch them
with my small-child fingers—
the handkerchiefs
she once gave me
held the scent of death

—Presence, #47, Dec. 2012


4 comments:

  1. A truly heartfelt piece and I understand the feeling. Very nicely done!

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  2. In a package small as a handkerchief, this little poem holds a young child's instinctive recoil from her first knowledge of death, something any reader can relate to.

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  3. I'd been apprehensive that this one might not go over well ... Thanks, Lisa, Jenny!

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  4. Wow... a memory becomes a sense. the sense of smell. very strong. stace

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