I summoned her with candle smoke, Wispy, Sinewy & Potent,
The snuffed-out wicks retaining the whispered remains of an evening.
The deadened embers a palimpsest of the laughter, the conviviality,
The delicacy-laden sideboard,
The empty chair at the head of the table set with family silver.
It wasn’t until overcoats were shrugged onto shoulders
Eyes averted through tight, lipsticked smiles, amid the goodbyes
That pretensions of joy could be slid off, along with my shoes.
Only drifting smoke remained, ephemeral as her memory.
Years later, blowing out candles in my living room,
The hot wax gathering, spilling over like tears
That scent suddenly brought her back
along with the fond, regretful goodbyes at each holidays’ end.
Of all the sensory memories,
It was candle smoke that brought her.
A farewell at night’s close
But with the promise of many more hellos,
Or so it seemed at the time.
More than the bright luminescence of the tapers,
More than the faces illuminated by them,
More than the faithful glow in the grate,
It was the Candle smoke,
The extinguishment of a flame that brought her back,
Vivid, vital, extraordinary,
The snuffing out of the one who brought us together,
Beckoning & betraying her essence.
Elizabeth Roach-Smith’s published work includes poetry and nonfiction articles about food and bourbon. She earned a degree in English literature at Furman University and a graduate certificate in Publishing from Columbia University. She lives in Louisville, Kentucky with her family and Great Pyrenees dog, where she works in communications.