Grandmother smelled
…of fertile black soil and salted pork;
harvested collard greens from her garden
rich in Oklahoma mountain minerals
sautéed in pork fat from the neighbor’s slaughtered pig
traded for a mason pint jar of moonshine
mellowed in the root cellar among jars
of canned tomatoes, chow-chow, sauerkraut and winter slaw.
Grandmother smelled
…of flour sack cotton;
sewn together for aprons, summer dresses and quilts
of wedding ring, Dutch girl and star designs
sewn on a foot pedal powered singer sewing machine
tucked among piles of folded cotton scraps
and a blue ticking covered cotton mattress
in the shed with dirt floors
and plank walls through whose cracks
grape arbor scents and train whistle smoke
wafted in and spun dreams of faraway
city sights, sounds and smells;
tantalizing images of silk and satin scented life.
Grandmother smelled
…of strong percolated coffee
black – like the wood burning stove and heavy cast iron she cooked with
black – like her waist length hair; plaited then worn like a garland gay
black – like her Black Foot ancestry
black – like the soil covering nine baby graves
black – like the secret; her maiden and married names were the same
black – like her beautiful skin and eyes
black – like the secrets and lies whispered by adults.
Their stories long buried and silent
along with their bodies now rotten
but this I know and have never forgotten;
my grandmother smelled
…of a warm, safe place to rest, play and be nourished.
…of an exquisite, designer perfume, a divine formulary
not of a dime store toilet water essence of rose.
…of eighty-three years of caring more for her family than for herself.
…like a hug, an embrace of belonging.
About this poem
The poem is a time capsule to capture the memory of grandmother and the powerful effect of scent on recalling the memories.
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