by Yvette Durham

Created on: May 09, 2010   Last Updated: December 30, 2011

Another day conquered
despite the hours crawling into days,
dragged back by Suspense.
My penned fist traces an X to mark it
on the hanging calendar.

Though he’ll not regard such trivialities necessary,
he must return to an immaculate home,
I vow.
My clawed fingers tumble bowled potpourri
with exactitude.
A woody lemon smell rises
from floors cleaned by vigorous arms, moist skin, exerted breath;

pleasing my pricked nose.
Cleansing air whistles in to help from the window,
billowing curtains.
As my hands sweep up grainy residue-
sugar, flour, rice-
from neglected pantry shelves
I smile into my mind;
titillating on the familiar film of our reunion:

With damp eyes, adrenalin-fluttered arms,
pasted smiles, swirling stomachs
and thumping hearts
we will reunite:
Crumpling into one another’s bodies.
Your uniform arouses delicious memory;
that manful robust aroma, laced with sweet sweat,
waning aftershave.
My nose and cheeks nestle, stroking, your shave-studded neck.
Your powerful safety encasing my frame.
Words are rendered superfluous-defective-to such a scene of
commanding emotion
although they briefly grasp at niceties and rehearsed lines.

As time trickles away till this Happy Reunion
I say to you,
Afghanistan:
So long, with outstretched arms, you have held
Husband and Wife apart.
But soon you shall surrender to our Love,
collapse your arms,
and fade into the fog of the past.

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