Another country's dampness tumbles to the floor;
towels in a heap; fleece holds the scent of you.
A kind of violence removing
fresh-crumpled museum passes, sea glass,
the stone saved from the road where the wood pigeon startled.
(Still pokes its head now and then from under my socks.)
A shame to store it undefined with other bags;
after it crossed the border, witnessed so much buzz.
I will keep it unzipped, ravenous for another;
your original score pocketed in the top.
tk/January 2015
Back to normal in R.A.D.'s black and white world...
Great word play and pictures ... 'fleece holds the scent of you'. Well done Tess.
ReplyDeleteimagination flows !
ReplyDeletevery reminiscent of past jpourneys....bringing tangible evidence of travels...
ReplyDeleteLovely. I was caught between the exhaustion of return and the readiness to go back on the road.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully written. It brings back that feeling of unpacking from a trip, with the lingering scents, memories, people: that "odd, uneven time." (Like August was for Sylvia Plath)
ReplyDeleteYou always manage to evoke so much emotion through your details.....I love, "Another country's dampness tumbles to the floor" so very much!! Oh, that is exactly what it is like...your words conjure up so much nostalgia for me.
ReplyDeleteGood to "carry on", Tess :)
ReplyDeleteCrossing the border is tough. Nicely expressed!
I hope you are able to feed it with another lovely trip soon.
ReplyDeleteGraceful, appealing memories, the best kind...
ReplyDeleteImages to and fro, like a best kept secret waiting to explode!
ReplyDeleteI really liked the title - very clever and the underlining meaning is evident. Always interesting to read your words of expression.
ReplyDeleteMust have been a hell of a voyage , with no TV !
ReplyDeleteI have rocks with memories-love it! Your lines bring up mixed images I enjoyed! <3
ReplyDeleteUnpacking is such sweet sorrow...
ReplyDelete