Your pipe tobacco
Sears like your red beard
Against my skin
Enflaming
Swirling taut nostrils
Your smoky grey eyes
Promising new intrusions
Of incense-breathing flame
As we talk and the day softly fades
Into an Orient-soaked night
Where the moonflower opens and glows.
It’s good to be back at dVerse’s Poetics with guest host Jo who asks us to find inspiration in “a world of common scents”!
“What is that peculiar smell?” Roger asked.
“Smell? What smell?” Brenda sniffed. “Perhaps you mean ‘scent’, dear, like perfume maybe?”
She moved closer, flirtatiously, but Roger took no notice. He was too busy sniffing the breeze.
“No, no. It’s definitely odiferous. Sort of a mix between the last rotting bit of carrion and the stinky Stapelia* your Aunt Irma insists on rolling in just before she comes to visit.”
This Jolly Beggar 