Stench Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Stench

Over
At last
The four-day-work
Took over a month

Tools are collected
Shovel is removed
Repair is done, all.

Owner relieved…

So he trimmed the tree
(A cause of complaints)
“Bugs, bugs, insects…”
They said.

I rolled my sleeves
Nose larger than normal
Celebrated the smell of Mutilated…
Leaves and branches
I breathed with chest full of air as do the arm-sellers’,
The blood suckers who celebrate the collapse of stability and peace.

I helped
Helped cutting the branches into smaller sizes
After they were cut
Readied them for travel
Woods in bundles and leaves in paper bags.

But I struggled with me and the smell
Did I like it?
Did I hate it?

Did I give The Brown Marmorated Bug
The right to protect its den?

It stinks like hell.
And to me
The bug is familiar as:
“Mulberry riper”.