A whiff of cologne
by Deenaz P. Coachbuilder
      Poetry makes bare what is hidden in the human heart—Deenaz

On a clear winter's day
I sprinkled
my father's ashes
on the dry earth
of the Aramgah
in his beloved Matheran.

I dreamt
last night
I stood
on the same patch
of earth
seeking to scoop
that dust
to restore the man
who was my father
to call out to him
my tongue
and my lips
longing to shape
his name again
my heart's desire
to catch just a faint whiff
of his favorite
4711 cologne.


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