Odor of Sanctity
James Mansfield Nichols
The body is detritus wrested free
From the last-minute clutch of agony.
The mortal launchpad of a soul now lies
Charred by the life’s fierce burn, the prey of flies.
The faithful fight for one shred of the foul
Infested holy bed, in lamentation.
A lucky few handle with adoration
The final black deposit of the bowel.
[Copyright (c) 2018 James Mansfield Nichols. All rights reserved.]