Death has a distinctive smell
Death of a human that is
Not road kill
Or a little bird the cat has mauled
Then dragged in onto your living room rug.
The stench of death encroaching in on a human bodyis putrid
There is nothing on earth remotely similar.
Yet,the smell was of no concern to meI wanted to see it
Feel itThe shape of it
Texture Colour Form
Surely at least death has a form?
I wanted so badly to see it in the air around my father’s body
To grab it with my bare hands Strangle it
I needed something tangible to fight with or at least
Try to reason with I saw nothing.
All I could do was try to put it on paper
Contain it Box it in
Not allow its presence to hold the room.
Scribbles and scratches
Black doorways and rough ink lines
I don’t think for one minute
That I captured it.
It only helped to dispel my rage at this invisible pervasive force
That whisked my father’s life force from his body
As quickly and effort lessly as a child letting air out of a balloon
That they couldn’t manage to tie a knot in.
Lucille Bonne is a visual artist, poet and flash fiction inventor, hailing from Edinburgh, Scotland, now living in Cork city. Her time is currently divided between family on the Isle of Mull on west coast of Scotland and her adopted beloved Cork city in the Republic of Ireland.
See more of Lucille’s work on Instagram @lucillebonne