Sudden Bloodhound

I am normally a bit oblivious

to many things;

if it doesn’t stink or scream

don’t expect me to notice it

(and even then, it’s got to stink pretty badly

to catch my attention).

But now I find myself

a sudden and unwilling bloodhound—

able to pick up on the tiniest scent

as I walk past the garbage can

or the kitchen sink.

The waft of the compost as I open the lid

hits me like colour—

a slime green wave riding the air

up into my nose.

Smells have become like warning signs

flashing across my vision,

sending me scuttling away in the opposite direction—

a sudden and unwilling bloodhound

lacking all desire to follow the scent

and solve the gruesome mystery

of its origins.

It’s a dog’s life,

early pregnancy,

so you’ll forgive me

if now and then

I throw back my head

and howl!