A Whiff of Carbolic
I sniff at my hands and oh!
Such scent, such ecstasy,
a memory presented to my nose.
But where do we find this block of adorable redness?
It was sold in every shop: lovable carbolic soap,
an aromatic compound, so ruddy, so redolent.
But this is now so rare; it merely
presents itself to my pleading mind -
a psyche that puts forth its arms,
a plea to a storehouse of valuable memory,
a whiff of an echo, an echo of an odour,
an odour that's been sent.
So who remembers, recalls a soap that's not
so round, bright pink, cream, blue or white,
that isn't sold in pretty-pretty paper?
We do so wish to sniff, sniff, sniff at an odour that's so old.
(3 Oct 2023)
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