i sniff deeply behind his tiny ears and i inhale the scent of eight weeks:
johnson and johnson and milk that has dribbled and hair matted from deep baby sleep
my older boys smell of earth and sweat and summer-scraped knees
or, fresh from bath, like lavender whispers.
and his smell is my deep secret--my heaven on earth, for his is marked by
laundry detergent, deodorant, and the breath of kisses
i breathe these men in deeply, inhale their belonging
i hope i smell more than just unshowered and like last night's dinner;
i want tiny ones to sense in me a love that gazes long and prays hard
and i want my beloved to know my scent on the wind, home(where the heart is).