Matthew 5:28

Silently up the hall
enter
the seductive stench

dried panty odors
her
dirty hamper

bares
her
chest

her
booty, aye
covet it all.

Dome of brassiere
a forensic mask–

plague doctor’s beaks
were often crammed with dried flowers

spices and herbs–
I inhale

what I wish to be
her sweat

percolating
over the tight skin of her tits

dripping down
over the ridge of her collar bone

collecting
in the minute crater

imprints
carved by her erect nipples.

A darkened mirror
traps this hunched posture

in media res
of a lecherous seance

of a haunting
in the dim room

down the gorgeous abyss
of her cleavage

‘O, I’ve been shattered
by her Platonic cheek kiss

‘O, stricken
by her hot whiff

floral spritzes
of Chanel L'Eau, spawn

in air like aquatic clouds
of fish semen

spilling over her neck
and chest, her throbbing oil warmer

while in sin, I sniff
her pheromones.

Smell is the furthest
into her humid thighs

I’ll ever come. Smell,
her
in the most abstract sense

now clings to her dirty underwear
rubs off

along the corpus
of my shaft

digs into the raw flesh
of my corona

wraps around my cock
like red rosary.

I tear at her flower-like
lingerie, her faintest

bouquet. ‘O
if smell were touch

I’d stretch her
panties to the side

take her
drench her in my poetic ‘O.

‘O, if only this sense
were the good sense.