They say that smell
Is your strongest sense
When tied to memory.
That just a whiff of a smell
Or even thought of a
Smell can bring you back
To a place and a time that
You had previously
Thought were left behind.
For me the smell of
Bleach is comfort, as my
Nanny used it as a
Standard, household
Cleaner. I love that smell
As well as of my favorite
Dinner, mildew (reminds me of summers spent
At camp, living out of a trunk) and
My favorite flowers
Each of these smells I
Love to revisit time and
Time again. One smell
Though has embedded
Itself in my memory and if
I have my way, I’ll never
Smell it again.
Mom had Colon cancer most
Of my time in
High school.
No clue on the stage
But it was best not
To
Ask
Surgeries, chemo, radiation, the
Whole
Nine
Things seemed to be fine,
Well, even great
Until it took a turn
My mom has never been
Skinny; she is petite, but
Normal
Suddenly she looked like
A holocaust victim
She would get quiet
Draw into herself
For periods of time
Another surgery. Fine
She returned home
And then something crept in
That something was death
And I’ll never know how I knew
You just know.
The smell of something
Dying
Isn’t pleasant
It puts you on edge
And turns your stomach
Mom was confident
That she was getting better
The smell, that can’t
Be described (dying tissue, pain
Suffering) was glaring
To me
I never asked Mom or Dad
If they could smell it
Because the smell of Death
Isn’t a sense that should
Be shared
I would just maintain that
I didn’t think
Something was right
A day or so later
Surgery. Fine. Home.
Smell.
Surgery. Fine. Home.
Smell.
Surgery. Fine. Home.
After that last
Surgery. The smell
Left. But even now
When I think back
To that time
That complicated time of
Soccer games
Chemotherapy
Apply to college
Surgeries
The one thing in the
Foreground
Is
That
Smell
Just a whiff of death
Of human decay
Of dying
Of suffering
And I’ve had my fill
For a lifetime