Limbic System Aria

The interest of the thing lies buried in the scent –
a limbic system aria –
intensely reeling – as if every sense were rent
by rutting dogs – one terrier

of which remains behind, keen to investigate
more of its wanton glory –
to press his snout against its fleshed alluring bait
to ferret out its story;

relishing descent appears to offer cure –
as if an archaeology
of sensuality were needed to inure
us to the dark biology

that underlies each atavistic tug and flex
which through the eons seem to be
as close as God can get to us: through sentient sex’
olfactory hyperbole.



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