Sunday, 5 July 2009

Do You Feel Like Yourself Again?

I am back. It is the lavender: it returns all my senses to normal, via memory, or else by the punctuated burn of my nostrils. Outside, a car slips past. Voices dematerialise out of ear shot.

“Can you feel my hand?”

A butterfly flutters.

“It tickles.”

“You are still waking up.”

Angled slivers of warmth break through the blinds. I think there is a hint of movement behind there.

“Try squeezing my hand.” - “That's good.”

Birds flirt from tree-tops. More voices, low and authoritative, pass me by.

“Inform the family, if they are still interested.”

“Can you smell lavender?”

“You might feel a little jab. It will only hurt a bit.”



My nostrils burn.

“All done.”

“Can you smell lavender?”

“Now look up at the ceiling.”

Coal miners hunched, pointing torches down tunnels: praying for survivors.

“I can smell lavender, like there are flowers nearby”

Dead canaries can’t sing. Scented pillows?

“Nobody has come to visit in quite a long time.”

No. Well almost. Fresh, damp washing that I can bury my face in. So fresh I almost suffocate. The lavender permeates right through past my eyeballs - even there I can feel it burn.

No comments: