"On my hands are the odors of the knock-out ether"
and other metaphors for sex
May your hands hold sweet, spicy scents.
May your senses all hold hands.
May you hand problems off to the Universe today.
A Poppy in Three Stages of Flowering, with a Caterpillar, Pupa and Butterfly by Johanna Helena Herolt (née Graff), late 17th–early 18th century
Sex
by Galway Kinnell
On my hands are the odors
of the knock-out ether
either of above the sky
where the bluebirds get blued
on their upper surfaces
or down under the earth
where the immaculate nightcrawlers
take in tubes of red earth
and polish their insides.
from Strong Is Your Hold: Poems by Galway Kinnell, Mariner Books, 2008
Creative Invitation
Think of what your hands have smelled like — a time when your hands held onto a scent. Start writing with the line, “On my hands are the odors of…”
Like Galway Kinnell demonstrates in this poem, sometimes smells or sense impressions point to other things, other places, than their physical origin. A scent can be a metaphor. What does the smell you are remembering point to, beyond itself? How would you describe it to a person who had no sense of smell themselves?