Day 320 – save, his fragrance

Sunday, July 17, 2011
Day 320
4:17 pm; 8:26 pm

save, his fragrance

It can be a wicked venture to love
a cat with the strapping scent of
earth and musk,

To watch a small but mighty soul
through an expeditious lens,

To witness the arc of wind, a lifetime
with the wingspan of an

I rifle through old, tiny brown glass
bottles I keep underneath my sink

Unscrewed caps release vanilla,
patchouli, bergamot, essences of
past lives

None so sweet, though, as the comfort
planted at the root of Kitti’s skin,

Where I spent many a year with my
nose attached to noting the best spots
to nuzzle into

To find no evidence of such earthiness
in any corner of any room or patch
of carpet,

To have no way of capturing our
history upon our last goodbye,

Is to watch unforgiving bottles of
time emptying themselves of my memory



About traciakemi

traci akemi kato-kiriyama - inter/multi-disciplinary theatre/performance artist, arts educator, cultural worker, community organizer. Tuesday Night Project; theatre, performance, writing, and teaching projects with many organizations and artists including: zero 3; Edge of The World for Asian Arts Initiative in Philadelphia and the National Asian American Theatre Festival in New York; "PULL" with Kennedy Kabasares in San Francisco; Nobuko Miyamoto and Great Leap Collaboratory I; TeAda; NCRR; Oymun's 11. Playwright for "Chasing Dad - a performance of a reading about a play i'm writing" presented by Inside the Ford for the Ford's Summer Playwright series. View all posts by traciakemi

4 responses to “Day 320 – save, his fragrance

  • Star Ka'at

    Fellow kitty lover! I snuggled my cat once and discovered he had spent some time in the oak tree outside. I wish I could bottle the smell of warm cat and oak tree. It sounds crazy weird, I know, but the memories and feelings it evokes are beautiful to me.

  • awesomepie

    Cats just making me think of itchy eyes and sneezing. I can appreciate the sentiments of the narrator, but the vanilla/patchouli/bergamot stanza was the most sensually appealing part of the poem for me.

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