April 19, 2010

NaPoWriMo #18

Stains

I hear a brittle smell before
it collides
with my nose,
sweet like the sticky
air
and the sun
clinging to strands
of my hair.
Apples and confectioner's sugar
reach for me
from the kitchen,
laying color
into the dull air:
I hear the
stains on my mother's apron,
flour and dots
of sugar like sand,
tarnishing
hand-embroidered
cloth blueberries.
The low-day dust
is gone.

*****
I wrote this while I was lying in bed before I fell asleep, by which time it would be ridiculous to turn on the computer and post it. So here it is, inspired by my sister talking about how she had discovered a newfound love for Ted Kooser's poems, especially one of his pieces about applesauce.

5 comments:

Myrna Foster said...

What a lot of images you've created with a few sentences!

Erin said...

mm the details in this are loverly. <3

odessa said...

maya, i love this! so simple but it plays with all the senses.

Jessie Carty said...

i wish i had been surrounded by so much poetry when i was your age :)

deowriter said...

The images are stunning and evoke the memory of smells in the kitchen.