Sense of Smell
08/20/07
In the morning he awoke,
Full of joy, the sun creeping
Like a lover from beneath the sea
He had dreamt his death
For the first time last night,
And so he also felt his first sense
Of all encompassing freedom,
The wobbling flight of his inhibitions
On this morning his mint tea
Cooled to perfect temperature
As he enjoyed fresh buds in the cold fog
Later on that day
Death had not become him
He longed for her
As if she were the aroma
Of ripe mangos freshly
Peeled and warm from the sun
That night he crawled into his bed
And dreams of life drenched his sheets
He awoke cold that morning
And thought of too many things
Over his coffee and
Bland cigarette and yet
Never realizing that the sun was rising
Nevertheless
Nor saw it’s radiance stretch across
The vast plane of azure he once held in his eye
-Paola C. Tavarez-