What I Try to Touch

What I Try to Touch

Something beautiful my friend wrote.

katrinatea:

Once,
I let a kitten sleep in the crook of my arm
and another wrapped around my neck
a genuine fur scarf.
She smelled like unwashed sheets
and something not unpleasantly animal.

Now,
When one loose hair tickles the inside of my elbow
or when dust sinks teeth in my nose,
just before I sleep because there is nothing else to do
I am reminded of this ghost of a good thing.

There was the Barfuss Park too,
in the Schwarzwald
which I still feel between my toes
mud making mountains 
the dents on the bottom of my feet
hot cinnamon air
melting thickly in the mouth

When my mother holds my hand
I am four
and in the grocery store
She hums the tune her mother hummed
and her mother hummed
I hear it now.
I am slipping her earrings out 
as I sit in her lap
my fingers whisper so softly
that she doesn’t feel.

This morning I felt age in my neck.
My pillow is too thick – I should replace it.
My dreams are drizzle
cold and constant.

When the water pushes me with gentle,
insistent hands
I reach for these things.

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