mysterious as a 1975
alchemical creation concocted out of 132
perfumes from her symphony of sweet florals
dusky ambers & oceanic linens
all fused with her natural
chemicals and last night’s kimchi stew
yet her underlying melodies
simply untraceable like the base
colors of Pollock paintings
like the diffuser of life
she inhaled her pride while i
spewed secrets in english:
words she would stumble upon
as she carried dictionaries of puzzles
piling them gently despite her clogged filters
she exhaled only the shasta daisies
into my lonely garden
i’m sorry umma but how can i forget
those sighs and salty tears
you wiped with the hands that carried
whiffs of burnt bulgogi
hoping to conceal the embarrassment
of which i was the cause
with spritzes of patience and fresh
nectarine blossom
when it’s already imprinted in my memory
and your memory foam
i now dive straight into its fluffy haven and kiss
the nostalgic whiffs, scrambling for hints
that’d later haunt me like the unopened letter
stashed away in my suitcase
if only i could then forget how your bruises
hardly appeared to heal
i’m sorry umma but i needed time
to heal as my spit-out sharp-edged words slashed
rare diamonds unabatedly yet
the mother in you knew my whimpers
were sirens so you’d pretend not to crack
while bruising internally
saying nothing yet everything
with your smile lines
your light spritzes of nectarine hope
your scent is medicine without expiration
taken on nights i grapple with my future becoming
and as your scent permeates my mind
i bottle you up in my heart’s crevices
knowing you’ll want me to wear my life proudly
the way you could not.