My Five Senses

MY FIVE SENSES In my fifties I disavow the taste but back in elementary school the image would drift into daydreams — pork kidneys with savory gravy went well with the pucker of dills. The fleabag oil of dog fur, the weighted polish on nails, and the brush of bangs on my forehead — equally threatening. Honeysuckle to a virgin’s pulse points, like the aroma of heaven. Lavender seeds sewn into a sachet. A long sniff, the bag pressed to the tip of my nose. My patrons walk into the library, eyes wandering, lips gripped tight in thought, but with a proper hello the curvature of their lips in upswing, eyes meet mine and for a scintilla of time our hearts touch. Likewise — the smiling eyes of children virtually untouched by experience. Background sound unsettling, loud sounds deafening, chomping, chewing — I run! Yet the good conversation of friends at the table, at work, on vacation — I hug. My five senses not always sensible, surely sensitive, and poetic fodder — even in the negative sense. 7/25/2018 My Five Senses Sponsor: Viv Wigley