scent of the newly-bathed
hot off the ironing board clothes, pulse of radio

  your smooth, round
  perfume   wafts

into my  distant home,
  making your absence

total    
                         keening
  through   the   anger   of   the feeble wall
  in front of   me

your    smell
   I     love, my love when it is time
I will    be   less than
    soul  when it   meets   body’s  persistent
     pleadings,      

lay  down    eloquently   bold
          for   mine   to    stray   thinking,
    here     engraved   to  bone
like   pompous   woodwork

again    and    again
   your   scent
making

your
   absence
total.