Chicken-broth like foreign scent and blinds

The rare subtle scent of something like mild diluted chicken-broth or a faraway whiff of miso soup does this to me. It took me years and years to figure out what this scent really could be, and up to today, I’m ninety-five percent sure that it’s related to meat; and most likely chicken. This rare, and what was once a welcoming foreign scent, takes me back to that new land that I flew into late into the night filled with excitement and hopes. Wonder shining from the eyes of a child who is looking towards the window; marveling at the engineering of…
blinds. And it also reminds me of the missed realities; like bloody chicken tendons and flesh, and aggression brewing in the kitchen from an aunt who really cringed behind her believable warm smile.

Now that I know now what I didn’t know then; can this foreign scent, once so full of hope and curiosity, ever become tainted?

 

Digital Camera

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Burning wood

Quiet nights
And the midnight stray dogs that bark
The scent of burning wood
Clay pots and runny rice
On a stove made of fine earth

I’m wearing my favorite cotton dress
And peeking out the open window railings
While the cool breeze touches my face
Unlocking my heart
There’s the lingering scent from grandma’s cooking
And a search for a lover in the dark

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In her palace

She’s in her palace; her head resting on its beautiful marbled floor. She sighs at the way it cools her cheek on such a hot summer’s day. Breeze comes through the large windows and balconies that surround this grand architecture. They tease her wavy hair strands, which in turn tease her face. She’s listless and still, and the only thing constant is her repetitive breathing. Her chest heaves up and down, slowly, bringing life to the stone surroundings. Her long flowy skirt splatters like paint over the beautifully patterned white floor. The atmosphere is impeccable; it’s an intoxicating mixture of floral scents and dampness. Lilies, jasmines, roses, lotuses, and lilacs. She twists and turns, as she slowly rolls to face the high ceiling. There, a green gecko crosses path. She turns to the side, and several ants are marching by. She reaches an arm out and rests her finger on the ground in front of them. They avoid her finger and continue to march around it. This little play makes her smile for a second. Glancing at the ants, their image blur before her eyes as she looks beyond towards the open balcony. There, the bright green banana trees sway under the sunlight. Then beyond them, she stares at the clear blue skies. This is everything she’s ever wanted. This is everything she has. She hears the sound of a sole peacock calling for its lover. It soothes her to sweet sleep.
She wipes away a sweat drop on her forehead as she regains consciousness. Her hairs stick to the side of her cheek when there’s no breeze.
Her heart slowly thuds in somberness. She clenches her long skirt as she twists over the hard marble.
This is everything she’s ever wanted; she reassures her heart,
before it surges into uncertainty once more.

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Somewhere on a horizon

It’s somewhere in between the orange and the blue hues of a sunset,
somewhere in the horizon where the sky meets the ocean
I don’t even recall who you are
nor which one
but your voice holds me, unclothes me, caresses,
kisses
and spins me,
as we dance in the shower
of raining orange flowers
in tangerine scented dreams
somewhere far, in the depths of a horizon

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