My Tobacco Life

My Tobacco Life

 Shredded.

A fine blend of mistakes and other choice regrets

Rolled into a cigarette. Paper-thin shrouds:

These twenty ritual burnings a day, my funeral pyres

For the clothes of the dead.

I inhale deeply all that should be forgotten.

It lingers in airless lungs like the smell in empty wardrobes,

Long after the rake has ploughed the ashes for that singed

Scrap of dress, that curling corner of photo.

My face is a blue balloon, waiting for the great

Exhale. Life has seized into a rigor of memory,

Caught between the embrace

And the release, the breathing in

And out of relentless living.

 

There are some things that can not be burnt away,

They hang like smoke and showering ash.

 

 

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4 Comments

  1. Christina Cronk said,

    October 20, 2010 at 1:34 pm

    so very true. You have a wonderful gift!

  2. luckyloom1 said,

    October 20, 2010 at 3:53 pm

    Bless you Christina for your lovely comment!

  3. Christine Croft said,

    November 1, 2010 at 3:14 pm

    I thought this was brilliant.

  4. luckyloom1 said,

    November 1, 2010 at 11:15 pm

    Many thanks Chris! xxxxxxxxxxxx


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