Getting Things in Order
Brian John Yule
Not until the scent of him,
Cut grass & pipe smoke
& the hint of bergamot
From that shampoo he always had to scour the shelves for,
Hit her,
Still heady on that old wax coat
Hooked inside the shed door
Where he’d grab it
On the way to walk the dog
Begrudging the rain its victory,
Did all her getting-things-in-order give way
& she looked longing at the emptiness
Where he had been
& it was in her too
& all the memories that might have healed her
Would not come
But lay there teasing just beyond
Held distant by the want of him
That filled her then
Caught & wrenched her breath back down
Stomach pit deep
& deeper still
& then a fugitive memory
Long forgotten
Broke through
Of popping to the shed just to remind
Him that the kids would soon need dropping off
At some event or other
A sudden look
A sudden kiss
Unexpected
Bliss
The scent of his hair
Fresh cut grass & bergamot
A laugh burst forth
Unexpected
That loved, felt joy & ached
& she folded up that old, wax coat
His old, wax coat
Let out a glorying breath
& set to
Getting things in order
