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Showing posts from March, 2019

PERFUME: A POEM

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Photo: Toan Klein SUSAN GLICKMAN Perfume A dab on the left wrist conjures a Russian birch-wood in summer, green leaves filtering the sweet green light. Two children – one girl, one boy – help their grandmother search for mushrooms. In the city a revolution is happening but it hasn’t reached them yet so their scuffed brown boots avoid only the berjozovik shrouded in leaf mulch and rotting wood; precious mushrooms to carry home unbruised for Baba’s soup. The right wafts jasmine jangling with bracelets of gold, the palm a languorous scrawl of henna. Wedding music plays so a blue vein throbs billowing fragrance into air freighted with rosewater, turmeric, sandalwood and an undercurrent – not unpleasant – of healthy sweat. It’s the groom with eyes outlined in kohl, fine eyes that glance shyly at us then away. Next to the neck, mushroom stalk of reverie, where atoms of scent disperse like mist from a cataract that falls and