Stink Grief

aromatic destruction
in the aftermath
of a passing odor
a whiff of what was
the past reborn in a scent
in a sense
incense of days forgotten
jerked back to life
lost romance
obscured time
nasally renewed, horrifically
for a moment
briefly distraught
a flash of mourning
a blast of grief
spritzed from the perfume bottle
bulb squeezed like yesteryear’s balls
erupting miserably into the present
a Krakatoan scream
under a hazy red-orange sky
the long dark nuclear winter
of our discontent
brought on by the insensitive stink of others


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