Petrichor
“Petrichor
it is that
intimate thing
not touch
but that what
just outside
the jaws
of the brain
you smell it
right?
what
that?
nothing smells
after a rain
no? smell again
that’s petrichor
rising from the ground
like mushrooms on death
like fog in a brownfield
that’s petrichor
a shiver runs through a room
right after a fire gets lit
not the warm not the cold
that’s petrichor”
Poem by Gregory Betts in response to sculpture.
https://www.artsy.net/show/cms-art-projects-dazzle-pods?sort=partner_show_position