Mitti Attar
As the scent of my youth creeps back into my mind
I remember us in the field and thus returns
The potent mixture of my defining memory
Of the earth’s geosmin…
Of my sandalwood…
Of your petrichor…
The smell we revealed to each other
The day I plucked the red queens lace
And we experienced Mitti Attar
The day we learned the Earth could breathe
And we felt her breath upon our skin
I can smell us still
In the corners of my cracked mind
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