Perfume Poem by William Cook

i love
the smell of the city
the hustle-bustle brilliance
of life effective in every moment
sweet ambrosia of death
sits lurking
in the shadows of rancid alleyways
signposted with ciphers
symbols of strange forests
hieroglyphics of night’s construction
breathe in
the humanity
breathe out
the horror
the horror of concrete & steel
a flailing colossus
the smell of victory
over death
not too unlike
“the smell of napalm in the morning”
lingers
like perfume in the back of your throat