Poetry Archives

There is a deliberate pleasure in watching
someone smoke cigarettes.  Even the echo
of that sentence smells like a stolen observation
that the smoker is deeply, darkly thinking.
In books, they brood; on screen, they are the rebel
or daring victim being slowly, unknowingly undone.
I have always wanted to occupy my mouth
in similar fashion and gather great thoughts
from the shadowed glow erasing my face.
I suckle sweet cigar substitutes instead:
savor the proximity of nature we’re taught.
Toast the lung in all its sanctity and encourage
its diverse role within ourselves.  As always,
let the credits scroll down your face
before stubbing out the coal.