One Poem by Isadora Reisner

White Linen 

When I knew
she might be dying
I started a smelling
her perfume in her bathroom
ritual. I was building
a portal to her
body for myself
and she didn't
even wear the scent
It sat on the sink
for no other reason
except to be smelled
by me & maybe
to give her some
glamorous imagining
And she wasn't
even dying yet
just old & I
felt guilty each time
for betraying her life in
posturing a future
without. I thought
in case I ever need
to be sprayed back to
a time with her
and I haven’t
needed haven’t smelled
since. White Linen
and teenage me
spraying and sniffing
solemnly reflected
in her mirror

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