Stench of Ash
I watch a procession of trucks, cars
as the last vehicle passes and silence returns
before evening is replaced with gray ash,
when my breath feels the stench of litter
from remnants of today's industry.
It is the moment when poisoned air
becomes thick , assaulting my vision,
the mind, this very being...
how the stink of commercialism
grips time's unbecoming realization.
As the light in winding tunnels disappear,
my instinct takes over: a raw escape
to inhale moon's pure fragrance...
yet, a suffocating fear consumes me
while I wrestle with next day, and the next,
barely alive from toxic emission--a ghastly brew.
For Stink Contest of Anthony Slausen
10/4/2016
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2016
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