In-scents or Out-scents
20" x 30"
©2012 - Sharon V. Rotz
This past weekend, I attended the Poet/Artist Collaboration reception at the Crossings Gallery in Zumbrota, MN. This was a wonderful chance to the poets who inspired our artwork. During the evening, the poets read their work as the artist's interpretation was projected on the screen. We all enjoyed the comments and thoughts that went into each work.
I had the opportunity to meet Karen Anway, "my" poet who inspired In-scents or Out-scents. Was it because of our collaboration? Do we share a bit of our soul as we create? We became instant friends the moment that we introduced ourselves.
Karen's prize-winning poem follows:
Incense and Nonsense
When I Read
Spirit has its own aroma
an appealing kind of nonsense
and started smelling
For instance, did you know the scent of rotting stems in slimy-water flower vases is the same one inside your mouth when you forget to floss all week, and the smell of that dumpster in
made me homesick for the ocean just like fresh garlic makes me think of sex? Kansas
In certain ancient cultures people burned incense because they thought the fragrance
The Nostrils of God
When we burned that good luck incense Joan sent from
and had to leave the house to breathe,
we wished we’d burned that stuff outside
and could have easily heard from the police,
or even God.
Jayne smelled her father in her car after he had died. She said she knew he’d been there even though that was impossible. My father’s car smells like him, but it wasn’t until after he died that I noticed. When I buried my face in my mother’s pajamas after she died, I could still smell her there for almost a year, but like every precious perfume, eventually that sweet bouquet my mother left behind for me, disappeared, and I was left holding cloth.
Well meaning friends tell me, Your parents still love you―remain with you even though they died.
Nonsense, I say, and snort
a breathing woman
Written by Karen Anway, used with permission of the author.