Apr 21, 2011

tucked between the ends of white bread turned upside down

She smells like justice and might.

Her hair smells like light and brilliance
with undertones of jasmine.

When she passes you in the hallway
you smile remembering something
from somewhere
that smelled so good.
And you can't remember what but it makes you think that
Walt Whitman or Margaret Atwood wrote about it.

Sometimes she smells like grilled cheese.
And Campbell's tomato soup.
The grilled cheese my mother made when Megan Swanton was
mean to me.

With a slice and a half of American cheese
tucked between the ends of white bread turned upside down
so I wouldn't know they were the ends.

She smells like peppermint when she's angry.
And eucalyptus when I'm sad.

She smells like teen spirit
and new tennis balls when you first open the can
and like Axe when I miss my son.

She smells like the back of Obi's neck and the top of Levi's head.
And sometimes like the air in the moment after lightening strikes.

Campbell's Soup Can, 1968, Andy Warhol

8 comments:

Miss M said...

Love Love Love Love Love Love!

Her and you!

Mary said...

You have summoned her before me as though you are a conjuror.

Which you are.

Cheri @ Blog This Mom!® said...

I have typed 17 comments, erased the first 16, and still don't know what to say.

Thank you. You have no idea and know exactly how much I needed that.

I love you.

Green Girl in Wisconsin said...

That is some of the sharpest imagery I've read in eons. I bow to your excellence.

stephanie (bad mom) said...

All smartly portrayed; I am awed.

The Girl Next Door said...

An awesome tribute to an awesome woman. This is why you are the good wife and I am but a wannabe.

Anna See said...

Perfection! I just loved this.

Stu said...

Very nice homage to Cheri.

pollock = drag cursor + click to change color + space to erase