My nose is my enemy,
Gathering ammo from the very air,
To be fired with an echoing report.

“God bless you!”

Pets, grass, space heaters, soap, the sun.
When I fight; it only becomes stronger.
If I take the defensive; it awaits an opening
like a samurai.

“God bless you!”

I give offering of exotic scents and tissues,
Of drugs and strange teapots,
Though these are but momentary distractions
As it plots my demise.

“God help you.”