Heavier than air
the mustard gas
sank to soil
with the gradual decent
of a deadly feather
 
GAS!  GAS! GAS!
The call too late
as skin blistered
breath, vision
cindered
 
Hands on shoulders
mirrored steps
lovers at the ball
as they moved toward
the dressing station
 
and they imagined
a fragrance
a balm to ashy lungs
a mixture
of poppies and lillies