Odiferous
It could have been a beaver,
or a possum, or the world's largest toad--
All I know is when I swerved to the side
of a hot country road
to photograph a dilapidated shack,
I was met with the ripe-dinge-of death.
So I checked about the ditches for a body,
only to discover,
ten feet from my right rear tire
a soft soupy-pancake of parted fur
together with a maniac jaw and devil tail,
and now,
three hours later
my suspicion is fully confirmed
as I tool down the road
in a sweet funky-cloud
of carrion perfume,
spinning the news
of some creature's demise--
Like the wages of sin.
Like our last toxic words,
and I wonder,
How many molecules
of death can there be?
Odiferous