I look in the mirror and smile
I like the way I smell
I will ask you:
Would you like to smell me?
Isn’t there a better word than smell?
I am wracking my brain.
I forgot to use perfume
for a year.
We were all wearing masks.
But I finally remembered,
I ran back at the last minute
as we were about to leave the house
to take the bus across town
to go visit my mother
and her friend for a drink, or two
because we’ve all made it
so far.
We’re still in Madrid
Spain
Europe
Earth
The Universe.
Remember those silly addresses
we wrote on postcards
when we were little? What came after the universe?
You gave me the bottle for Christmas.
I still keep it in
its beautiful light teal green
and silver box from London.
Everything seems distant and exotic now
and I love its name.
Last night
the perfume was an afterthought
a sudden last-minute priority
like making sure you turned the stove off.
I asked you to wait in the hallway
while I went back
in the dark to quickly find it, open the box, take off the glass top, and spray.
The first spritz went right into my eye;
it stung, but it was worth it.
The rest, in my scarf, hair, and behind my ears.
The 20 bus was calm.
We’re not supposed to talk anymore
on public transport.
Talking spreads germs
despite the masks, or something like that.
But we never talk much in public anyway.
Outside my mother’s building there were lights flashing,
firetrucks and police cars.
Another emergency?
I checked my phone as we got off the bus.
Nothing.
No answers.
The night before I dreamt I had a missed call from my mother
a llamada perdida - lost call - we say in Spanish.
In the dream, I had a phone and several remote controls.
My hands fumbled with all the devices
all the buttons
trying to find the call
to remember the password,
the pin code.
I knew the remote controls weren’t phones
but I kept coming back to them.
I think about writing a poem using
a thesaurus,
but I resist because I love the words I know:
familiar language.
Turns out
the firemen were cutting down trees
damaged by the snowstorm
the latest surprise disaster
a giant fallen loquat and a Mediterranean pine.
Soledad Fox Maura is a Professor at Williams College (USA). She is a biographer, editor and novelist.
