Oct/Nov 2013 Poetry Special Feature


by David Mathews

Electronic/fiber artwork by Phillip Stearns

Electronic/fiber artwork by Phillip Stearns


My grandmother loved them,
placed them everywhere,

in circles like the ancients
placed their neoliths,

from underneath the couch,
to repel mice, to the closet,

to ward off moths. I question
if they work as wards for pests,

or if she just somehow
strangely loved their smell.

A crocheted wool afghan
reeks of them,

even all these years
after her death.

I remembered cleaning
out her home

and finding those faux
snowballs everywhere.

Their smell so awful,
it was electric, kept me away

from the memories
I wanted to abandon.


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