Earth Science

I smell me   

coming up behind me

some days—

sweet sarcophagal

history. The Ark

after the beasts   

disembarked,

the motel bed

as the maid draws

the shades, shakes the sheets,

blinks back the stink,

the leafed hollow

where the stalled mower   

sits in its exhaust   

and smells of wronged

flesh, wing, meat   

but me mostly,

climbing the steps,

extract of me,

stinking of me.