Paradise of the Nose

Day 8:

In first block this morning, our ah-mazing teacher passed around a plethora of objects chosen to ignite the olfactory enthusiations of…um…well we smelled the things one at a time, and let them inspire us, pretty much. We passed around lilac, oregano, cinnamon, honey, and a whole bunch of other great stuff, but I got a little hung up on the raw vanilla pod…

Corruption

In my ninth summer,

while baking in the muggy

honey-wood kitchen,

I poured a teaspoon of vanilla—

sinfully dark and tantalizing—

into the cookie batter

and spontaneously placed the dimpled spoon

on my tongue.

The syrupy residue

burned my mouth

and ran down my throat like fire;

sly betrayer, master of temptation

decieving me with its sensual scent.

Now I remember that day,

and vengefully aspire to

steal someday into homes

                                    and pantries

                                    and grocery stores

                                    and storage rooms,

liberating the innocent plastic bottles

from shadowy shelves.

The powders would re-form into thin pods

like flexible licorice sticks,

I would force the essence

back into dry, shriveled seeds

and smuggle them with me

to Tahiti,

Madagascar,

India and Mauritania,

and on their humid native shores

full of cinnamon breeze

their dead tissues would reincarnate

from their crucifixion on the drying stakes

and regain the moisture

stolen from them,

ready for me to reunite them

with their mother vines

so they could grow

longer and darker

and spread luxurious perfume

through a sweet forest,

creating an olfactory paradise

where the natives and I would flourish,

running barefoot

between the vine-stakes

and growing high on the fumes

while our skin sweats

and darkens

in the equator sunlight.

 

(c) 2011 Marie KR