Scientists said, ‘Take a sniff’
(It was a blindfold test),
And by your pleasant, pungent whiff
I picked you from the rest.
I knew that you were pretty old,
Had years beneath your belt:
I sensed in you how years unfold.
All this from how you smelt.
Perhaps because you have endured –
Each year now seems a wink –
I found that I was quite inured
Against your ageing stink.
Or maybe it’s that I persist
When I should be in a coma –
But, coated in familiar mist,
You wear a sweet aroma.
Flesh and gristle, marrowbone,
Who were you? What’s your score?
Unblinded: ah, I should have known.
The bloody Afghan war.