The red-breasted robin inhales a startling lack of incense 
among still-standing trees not yet assaulted by forged metal. 
Oxygenated exhales enter lungs as a fresh bitter, a mint 
that stings throats used to smog. A good sting. An intentional sting 
as bark cousins remind flesh enemies paying to roam the park 
that the static stoicism of stretching leaves gives life 
while so many heart-beaters take theirs away 
for flame parties and ice boxes. 
Patchouli-heavy highs and soured chocolate cream: 
worth slow death to the walking ones. 

Alas, this contest entry for Day 6 of NaPoMo did not place (the first line might be a bit obtuse, I will admit). I personally love it, though. https://allpoetry.com/contest/2830809-National-Poetry-Month-April-6th-noguest