there seems to be this fresh relationship with death
it was pinned
to a change in my views towards my mother
where once was this hollow of jealous neglect
(upon finding an old letter of hers to a younger me)
I suddenly felt her regard, her obsessive attention that was indeed love
love so cloaked in cigarettes, roses, autumn, taboo perfume and sun beams
I felt her
in totality
in all the complicated ways we humans move thru life with fire-dreams & stillness
death:
it shadows me now with a knowing relevance
what was once far is tighter--familiar & tangible
we were somewhere before we were here
and there were smells of cigarettes, roses, autumn, taboo perfume and sun beams
