Poetry.

[hsavinien]

Scent Memory
by H. Savinien

The smell of peat smoke is

dark and

              sweet and

                               thick,

tickling the back of nose and

throat.  Mixing with

sharp salt

and the smell of rain

(somewhere between wet iron

and the beginning of mildew),

the pictures slide into place.

With mental                   clicks

less like the tumblers of a lock

and more like stones in an

u   n   m   o   r   t   a   r   e   d

wall,

they separate into neat,

          disparate

patches of memory.