…”the buttons like stars plucked at cost from their hammered settings.” Lines like this objectify the “balm” that is either the memory of “hopes and fear and doubts” or the steeling of one’s heart to their lingering presence. They cannot be hammered shut, and taking them out of the confines of memories, they are the little fragrances that provide the balm to the “blades of memory (that skulk) from their hiding places.”
The oblique ambiguities are a minefield of nuances. It is so rewarding to dig into them. The long lines harden the image of the hesitation that occasions the prying loose of memories from their “trellis”.
This is Luisa’s most intriguingly beautiful yet. Bravo! (Can’t wait to write the day’s poem-response.)