Written in response to: Locomotion by Jacqueline Wilson
The Armani code
It comes through my nose and into my heart.
When I smell the waft, it’s like he’s there again.
I remember being seven and lifting it off him with the hoover of a nose I had.
When I smell it, it’s like I’m the only one in the room.
He was my best friend;
football, basketball, running.
He taught me with that smell.
Whenever I play, it’s like he’s teaching me again.
I feel seven again.
That’s why I’m passionate about sports.
That’s why I smell nothing but Armani code.
When I play,
it makes me feel flawless.
It makes me smell him.
Each half of the game
I know he’s there with me,
because I smell Armani code.
It’s the heart of his fragrance.
It comes over me like a spirit ghost;
this pen at the moment is floating,
his smell is lifting the pen.
I need to tell him nothing,
he knows what I feel.
It’s almost telepathic.
I feel more than a connection.
It’s stronger than love.
It’s like the Armani code is part of me.
I use it and see him, standing there.
It’s in my house at this moment.
It’s a three-way street,
like light hitting a mirror, then a wall,
It’s simply Alieu code.
When I think of my dad,
I think of cocoa butter
and I think of his soothing voice
and the smell of cocoa butter cream.
Every time I smell that
I feel like I’m in a sea of pillows.
His smell is like the wind,
blowing the leaves in the air.
The smell dances up my nose,
tickling all my senses.
The smell of cocoa butter cream
sends me to a bed of clouds.
My granny smelled like lots of things,
She smelled like a small amount of Boss perfume,
Whenever she hugged me I used to press my nose into her clothes
because she smelt like Mexico,
like fresh and green land.
She smelt like her garden,
Like the sun hitting the flowers
and a tiny bit of cement.
I wish I could be there right now.
The strongest smell was
When I went to her house she was always cooking,
Spicy chilly, pepper, salt.
She smelled like that.
My dad is always cooking the same things she did.
It smells the same.
The smell wafts up my nose tickling all my memories and senses.
She is alive in my mind,
she is someone very important to me.
She is my granny Josefina.
I know I won’t smell her flesh again.
My dad will help me smell her again
When my Nan died
What do I remember of her?
I remember that…
When she smiled I smiled.
When I laughed she would laugh.
Even though she could not move because of the pain
She would try to move for me.
When she passed away
My heart turned into specks of dry dust.
I miss her terribly.
I miss her kisses and hugs.
Until this day there is not a time or a place
I don’t think of her.
She told me that she would always love me.
I will always love her.
- reading the book Locomotion which inspired this poem.
- describing someone who is special to you.