Our sense of smell is very closely linked to our memories apparently. I can believe it (mostly!) – simply from lived experience. How about you? This recent poem was inspired by the smell of way-too-old coffee:

THE NOSE DOESN’T LIE

The nose doesn’t lie,

except that one week six years ago

I was convinced to the point of disgust:

morning coffee smelled as beef stew,

but it was a blip in the brain,
otherwise known as Covid-induced parosmia.

Caffeine obsession had to stand by my side and swear

I’d taste no meaty broth.

//

The nose doesn’t lie,

except that one hour twenty years ago

I was convinced to the point of panic:

rubber was melting,

but it was a blip in the brain

otherwise known as a migraine-less aura.

Husband had to stand by my side and swear

he could smell no burning.

//

The nose doesn’t lie,

even that moment forty years ago

I was convinced at first it couldn’t be true:

the odour of anxiety,

but it was no blip in the brain–

these were my senses unwillingly attune,

husband at my side, he utterly consumed

by a tsunami of terror.

//

The nose doesn’t lie

across a childhood fifty years ago.

Am since convinced it could be true:

fear had a fragrance.

No blip in the brain,

but the bitter edge, a familiar sore,

one parent absent while present, so utterly consumed

by a lifetime of anguish.

//

The nose doesn’t lie:

this morning’s coffee grounds

convince me to the point of disgust–

their acidic stale breath

is no blip in the brain,

but the odour of age and oxidization.

Caffeine obsession stands by my side in silence, why can I

only think of Dad?

First published in As It Ought To Be Magazine: https://asitoughttobemagazine.com/ann-van-wijgerden-the-nose-doesnt-lie/