As I Grow Older

October 12, 2016


This dearth of memory’s one more death, loss
so entrenched I’ve learned to accustom myself
to its canker, while all the while the dark gloss
of the deeper past glimmers, burnishing itself:
absent for months, my mother reappears now,
loitering near me as I scrub a soup pot, urging
me to scour harder until it gleams. . . . Winnow
the chaff, she coaxes as she departs, following
the frozen path into our woods. Remembrance
is like that – apt or not, then altered and gone,
though today she lingers still in the fragrance
of her French perfume, its extravagant balm
of jasmine, rose, and civet, that my brother
brought from across an ocean like a lover.

Myrna Stone

Myrna Stone is the author of four full-length books of poems: In the Present Tense, Portraits of My Father (Kelsay Books, White Violet Press, 2013); The Casanova Chronicles(Etruscan Press, 2010), Her poems have most recently appeared in River Styx and Nimrod. She is currently at work on her fifth book-length manuscript, Luz Bones.

One Response to “As I Grow Older”

  1. Reblogged this on hocuspocus13 and commented:

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