Warm Pig Fat

Warm Pig Fat

I have no recall, said he, of the events of that day;
Sorry, bro, but it is just that way.
Then his brother opened a pouch saying “Take a whiff of that...”
The man slowly inhaled then sank back in his chair “Ah yes, warm pig fat....”

He recalled then, in shock, an incident experienced as a youth:
Witnessing his father’s butchering a pig which hung from the rafters of the shed’s roof;
And how the strong warm scent of the creature’s flesh laying exposed
Pierced his senses committing him to forget what his spirit opposed.

Such is the case with a nose which remembers
Some memories, like the man’s, it also dismembers
When the shock and trauma of the gore
Make remembering something to abhor.

Some of the man’s more positive recall
Include these smells remembered from his youth when he was yet small:

The verdant moist aroma of newly cut alfalfa hay
Laying fresh in the field ready for baling later in the day;

The fermenting and steamy, acidic aroma of chopped cane
Packed in a silo and fed on cold winter days to cattle mixed with some grain;

The smell of cinnamon and yeast from baking bread
Which filled the house warmly eaten just before bed;.

Short-burned cigar which our neighbor still chewed
Mixed with conversation and laughter and hot coffee brewed;

Fresh coffee perked on an open fire
Providing warmth to cold bodies as we worked in winter’s mire.

Oh yes, then there is...
The stench of the skunk whose musk fills the air
Following a night of being caught in a metal steel trap near its lair;

This poem was a time to recall nose memories
Tucked away in my olfactory recall crannies;

Its life is more basic, more back to the earth;
One memory is missing: I can not recall the smell of my birth.