First comes as a smell,
As like a queer smell.
Nouns smell weird to me.
It may mean that soon
I'll start to lose them,
Those names of all terms
Most name-like, true nouns.
They’re all names, the words—
These words, those that act,
Those we use to count,
Those that link and point—
But you know—true nouns,
Your own name, the names
You call your loved ones—
What when you lose them?
I may lose this sense
Of smell, just a bit
At first, bit by bit.
Each bit will scare me,
And then I will get
Used to it. The next
Bit that falls from me
I’ll be scared once more.
I’ll be what I can’t
Say, each name a blank
Space. I’ll search my days.
Don’t I know your face?
