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Keeping The Scent Of Insignificance From The Door

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The apple scent throws me back to my childhood

picking apples from the family tree

in a grandparent’s garden with a sister.

Her up the ladder; me, holding it steady.

 

My gaze follows the upward flow

of her arched white socks as she balances,

straining to reach higher.

I see straight up her skirt, up to her cotton-white

knickers and the smooth dark creases they conceal.

This peek stirs something unfamiliar inside,

something that carries on through my awakening sexual years.

 

From that moment I noticed things:

the blonde down on Donna Foster’s arm, year six;

the flash of Lisa Harrison’s flesh-coloured

bra in high school as she raised a hand in class;

watching the women’s tennis on TV,

a tease of white with each serve;

walking in on my mother in the bath, embarrassment,

her black triangle of wavy hair in the water;

the pornographic magazine found in a bin by a bus stop,

its multitude of flesh, pinks and reds.

 

I think of the first time I masturbated, secretly,

in my sister’s wardrobe, when all feeling was lost in my legs;

of being side by side in the cinema with Hannah,

clumsy hands, hot and sweaty, finding their way

through  pubic fuzz to delicate membrane,

her small cold hands leading me to discovery;

my first time behind bushes in a garden with Suzanne,

tight, wet and quickly over.

 

These memories keep the scent of insignificance at the door.

 

◄ Spitting at Bus Stops

Charles Loves Julie ►

Comments

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John Togher

Mon 13th Jun 2011 23:26

Hopefully, the apple serves as an allusion too, Elaine.

Cheers for the comments.


Small disclaimer: I don't have a sister.

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Elaine Booth

Mon 13th Jun 2011 22:18

Of course one can't help but associate the scents of sex also with the apple scent and since poetry, like the sense of smell, is so evocative and taps into deep memories I find this all the more powerful.

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Elaine Booth

Mon 13th Jun 2011 22:16

Aw, what a fantstic line - "These memories keep the scent of insignificance at the door." Such real memories you describe - no-one could doubt for a moment the honesty and passion of these images. And the integrity of your committing them to a poem. And the final sentiment is so truthful, wise. A real knock-out poem, John - brilliant. X

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Laura Taylor

Mon 13th Jun 2011 13:37

Excellent - so much stuff in here that is usually seen as taboo. Love it.

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Francine

Fri 10th Jun 2011 16:55

Ahhh... Reminicent of sweet and delicious moments.

<Deleted User> (7212)

Thu 9th Jun 2011 21:02

very well written, honest & evocative.
I wonder if it would be too much too hope for a poem on WOL giving us a girl's eye view of those teenage fumblings ??

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Brian Wood

Thu 9th Jun 2011 19:24

Hi John
I must admit it took me back to my boyhood days-
Thanks for the memories.
Brian

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