The question

What does one do with things that do not decompose
like longing that comes in the shape of a frequently used
smell?. Irrational, these thoughts.
What doesn't die out stays for lack of purpose, or place
like a whiff of almonds and roses, perhaps it knocks on one's door in winter
to remind,at least me-of the glory that passes on cat feet.
Maybe the secret lies in bitterness' tang  at newness
newness demands a look at the raw core of  elements:
new children with pink flesh,
unopened books and the wave of an old tune's flag.
It is possible to hide what doesn't lean itself to decay
display is the word then, like antique shops and museums
cram them with decay to preserve
memories that shouldn't, horrid nature that belongs
to kingdoms non-human.

but the real question remains: what does one do with the fight against decomposition?
let the fire then
be the answer.