Aroma Makers

My mom smelled of sewing machines
As she entered a room
Echoing a faint whirr of the Singer pedal
And the odor of oil she’d drip
Into centimeter wide holes
There was an aura of thrift and restraint
A brisk knowing hemmed in chores
Today I get that complex trace
In an auto-body shop

My fragrance is an honesty that lets out
My gender and identity into the open
I am wrapped in a whiff of paycheck
And bold activism
I smell like Dunkin coffee
Wakefulness and stirrings
I smell of building muscles
And gym sweat
I am my dog I cuddle
And guileless animal love
The mustiness of my room
And relaxed medley of chaos

Jaya Rangan’s short stories appear in various magazines including Twisted Vine Literary Publication, Corner Club Press and Bookend Review. She is involved with teaching STEM subjects, creating dishes and being a town meeting member. She enjoys Earl Grey tea and travels.