stuffing snow foam down Jake’s top
I catch the scent of a free sample
I’d sprayed earlier, on my wrist
It conjures up a row of steel grey
matriarchs, sitting in pews
in florid horrors and paper skin
made superior by Elizabeth Arden
it makes me feel how far I am from that
rolling around on the floor
letting my toddler get a fistful of bra
for snow foam revenge
but every time I sniff
there they are again
faint now
but still hanging around
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