Looking For Coco – Channeling Chanel.
Looking for Coco
I never could channel my inner Chanel.
I never could actually find
my inner Chanel. But my mother who used to
take me to
department stores each Saturday when
I was little, while she tried on this pale suit and
that dark dress, pivoting before the glass (front
and back) in her best smile, seemed to have a very
clear Coco, so I have to think that if I just look hard enough, starting
at the heels of my orthotic-ed oxfords, through the
ribs of my bunched wool
ankle socks, all the way
to the brush of cowlick at my crown,
taking a brief, but thorough peek,
below the bruised elastic of sports
bra, I would find some deep smidgen of
But, until I do (if ever), I must content myself with
the occasional sniff of those teeny square
bottles, the sampler-sized Number 5s,
my mother saved, tucked
in the side of her jewelry case, their
scent not fading even when
the perfume itself
is long long gone.
I’m posting the above for Tess Kincaid’s Magpie Tales, where Tess posts a photo prompt. (I’ve done my own version of the photo.) I am also linking to the Imaginary Garden With Real Toads Open Link NIght.Explore posts in the same categories: poetry comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.