A jumble of memories and present moments in this one…

Seems I’m always pulling out the cord
the light dims
the connection is cut
the fragrance that used to greet me
dissipates—slowly
a lingering resentment somehow let go

Steel, tempered and brushed
leaves marks on skin
where blood once flowed

The apple still tastes as sweet
the scent once marked her skin
on a muggy summer evening

when cicada called out her name

(31 December 2016)