SNIFF

SNIFF!

The reek of ape or pig suggests the pall

That we disguise with sweetly scented oil.

Recall that great aunt’s lavender embrace,

The bitter undertones, the musty lace

And how the child imagined he could taste

Tobacco, pear-drops, rotting flesh and waste.

We dream of duchesses and courtesans

With beauty-spots and hyperactive fans,

Elaborate wigs; each widely bustled skirt

Malodorous, rank and damply trailing dirt

From corners of palatial passageways

Outfuming scattered herbs and sweet nosegays.

There is a language, subtle yet sincere

That intimates our anger, lust or fear

Beyond contention, honest and profound

Well-known to rooting pig and hunting hound

But largely lost to man. The pheromone’s

‘Come on!’is drowned by perfume’s louder tones;

The sharp shriek of adrenalin gives way

To the quietening 'Shush' of deodorant spray.

So sniff! And celebrate the codes of scent:

Can you imagine what those young stags meant

When, hot, they charged the atmosphere with musk?

And have you breathed the drowsy fumes of dusk

When night-stock pump their essence into air

Intoxicating insects? Be aware –

Those ancient pathways to the brain can still

Command the power to revolt, or thrill.