Posted in Written Word Wednesdays

Written Word Wednesday: NaPoWriMo Day 25

Dear Readers,

Soon I plan on writing a post that better addresses my return to the blogging world, but for today’s confines of time and “cares” (substitute more colorful language if you wish) given, this is what I’ve got.

For now, I’ll just come back slowly, with a very very rough draft of a poem in celebration of National Poetry Writing Month, or NaPoWriMo for short.

Today is technically Day 26 of NaPoWriMo, but the optional prompt fits a poem I wrote over a decade ago, and I wanted to stretch myself a little bit, so I’m using yesterday’s prompt.

To summarize, the prompt asks

to write a poem that explores a small, defined space – it could be your childhood bedroom, or the box where you keep old photos. It could be the inside of a coin purse or the recesses of an umbrella stand. Any space will do – so long as it is small, definite, and meaningful to you.

So here’s what I’ve got. (Remember, it’s extremely rough.)

This is the beginning of me processing through writing the passing of my dear doggie Dexter. (And yes, he did actually die on an autumn day.) I started about a week after he died, but couldn’t finish, so this was nice and therapeutic for me. Enjoy (or not…I’m not forcing you to do anything), and I’ll be back soon with a happier, lighter topic!

To Unassuming Returns,

Violet

The Space of an Autumn Day

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My Autumn Day

smells like calm after getting the news of your kidneys failing,

your head leaning on my chest,

breath warm against my face,

long black fur fuzzy and soft beneath my fingers.

Dex and Gem

It smells like the pumpkin patch

where you went through slowly, exhausted from your body not cooperating.

It smells like sudden sadness

When I fed you a hot dog from the stand,

Thinking it might be one of the last times I’d get to treat you.

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The fragrance trapped in the space of that cornflower blue jar

is so much more than “crisp red apple,

Green fig, white birch, cedar”

Like it reads on the bottom.

It’s eleven and a half years together

coming to an end,

it’s giving you a modified sponge bath,

half-joking that “I don’t want you to get kicked out of heaven

for being stinky.”

It’s one last hurrah,

Summoning strength to give us the gift

Of a beautiful walk, your spirit strong,

Determined to get through the woods,

Across the street,

Dip your toes in the water,

Fall breeze heralding a storm,

But holding off for three more days.

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It’s the scent

of taking you in my arms,

telling you of the wonderful memories we’d collected,

not just during the year,

but during the span of your entire wonderful life,

telling you it’s okay

and that I was right here

while you shook with violent spasms,

most likely convincing myself more than you

not to be afraid.

It’s the scent

of lighting Autumn Day

on what would’ve been your 13th birthday,

remembering your sweet soul,

your head leaning on my chest,

breath warm against my face,

long black fur fuzzy and soft beneath my fingers.

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