Olfactory

When you entered the room, I read
on your breath and sweat everything
you had been doing: caught the whiff
of last night’s curry in your underarms,
the linger of his kiss – that man
I secretly despise – wished you’d changed
your socks. I did not entirely like
the smug hormone of satisfaction
that wafted after you. For hours
now, you have put me second.

I smelt a sparrow pass the door you
opened, and licked my lips.