hours 

tumblr_me28hcxl621qd3ucoo1_500.jpg

 

I see those mottled photos, ornate albums

of yesterdays yellow sun

Of swollen women, dream-like, in a lavender field.

They leash their arms around an oval-shape

becoming empty; the shape deflates, the air comes out like water.

It starts to breathe it’s own small breath in the shape of a person,

someday a man, a woman, sometimes swollen, sometimes

stiff, stark, or bleeding.

Seeing those photos one day,

your nose has memorized leather and tobacco flower.

for her, it’s dr.pepper, Disney on ice

the coty musk she never knew she had just inside the pi of bone.

 

samantha lucero 2017 ©

38 thoughts on “hours 

    1. I just bought a vintage, leather bound copy of wuthering heights, and a vintage paperback “Victorian ghost stories” and there WILL be sniffing. Vintage smells a certain way.

  1. My grandfather (Mom’s dad) took a lot of photos, now mounted in volumes of such albums and come down to me, smelling of time and history. This reminded me in a lovely way.

    1. I love that! I love that it made you think of a memory! That was my intention, and sometimes I’m unsure if the right people get it, and you’re definitely the right “people”!

  2. Sam has carved out her own niche in the universe of writers. This is a brilliant work which is indicative of every piece that I’ve ever read from Sam. And it goes without saying that she has a pretty good eye for Aesthetics.

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