Beatrice Dojuvne (5 poems)
soaping
from Lisbon i carried
yellow jasmine soaps
in old handmade boxes
the rose ribbons undone
i place the essences
in this white shower tray
as i froth soap and water
i travel back to nights
of the blueberry spices
of ruby red port wine
nostalgic fado songs
strings slowly fading
after the shower
dabbing perfume
on my wrists
behind my ears
when there is
nowhere to go
the world locked
down solitary
self-pleasuring
this scent my
only companion
my hair, a measure of time
uncolored roots
expose their
natural grays
might monochrome
fit the rest of me?
uncut, now i can play
with styles à la
betty grable movie
i watched last night
roll it up into bumper bangs
crowning my face
i look like my young mother
proudly holding me in her arms
in this now beige photograph
Seasons of crying
She leans over and
hugs an earlier me.
My story having
broken her down.
And me? Benumbed.
Tearless.
Have I forsaken him?
Questions like these
betray the tangled
heart of mourning.
Just about everything
I shall learn to give me
what I received from him.
Crocus. Confidence.
Shield. Smile. So many
sunsets. Sunrises.
And his being to love.
I can learn to give me
just about everything
rippled with grief.
Beatrice Dojuvne is a licensed psychologist with a private psychotherapy practice. She is the author of In Strangers’ Arms: The Magic of the Tango (McFarland, 2011) and Don’t Be Sad After I’m Gone (McFarland, forthcoming) and has published numerous articles in peer-reviewed psychoanalytic journals.