“Roulé dans tes senteurs, belle terre tourneuse...”--Jules Supervielle, “La Sphère”
It is with you, and since
I have begun smoking again,
the world is full of smells.
Lavender along the office road
heralds June, thrusts arched swords
of flowers overhead. The lake
where we sit embraced smells fresh
the air cleared by summer rain.
Sandalwood and jasmine in your hair
as it falls across my eyes
when you bend down to kiss me, the bite
of chardonnay beneath your breath
sharp on your tongue, and then on mine.
My nose, asleep all these years
approves and asks for more.
Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry just outside Cleveland, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Survision, Loud Zoo, and Ghostlight, among others.