three years ago,

my first march in

this house.

overwhelmed by circumstances,

unaware of what

i was in for.


in her bed at

the hospital, madeline

still waiting

to arrive.

the flowers

blooming in

our yard…

grapefruit, lemon and

orange blossoms.

the yellow flowers

on the vine.

the jasmine bush and that

tree in the back

i thought was

dead, suddenly covered

in small, white flowers.

that scent,

like waking up in the

gardens at the

other huntington.

that scent,

you could smell it

a block away.

that scent,

it could cover up

the constant shit smell

of a leaking septic tank

(in my neighbor’s yard, not mine, thankfully).

that scent,

it’s back.

it reminds me

it’s march.

that she never

got to take it all in,

and that i’ll never

be who i was

back then.

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