The speaker in this poem is a man who is grieving the loss of his wife:
After her funeral, my wife's scent lingered in our home
Her robe, our sheets, the closet's air, her dirty towels
I was alone, but not left alone. Her smell haunted me.
One night I sat on the couch with her ghost,
I closed my eyes, wanting to sense her, wanting to hold her
I went to her side of the closet,
Held the blouse she wore before leaving that night,
And breathed in the floral fragrance absorbed by the collar
I grabbed her purse hanging on the door,
I breathed in the smell of her last stick of spearmint gum,
her lipstick, the bottle of perfume, her vanilla chap stick,
I breathed and breathed, closing my eyes each time,
to make a better memory. I did so until her purse was empty.
By. Rebecca Houston