Author Information
Smoke
Folder:
Poems 2006 Can you hear my thoughts inside that skull of yours?
Recently, you held my face in your hand and called me beautiful.
Until July my lungs were free of your smoke,
but sometimes they still want to hold it in.
Mandatory evaluations of the soul always leave me empty
until nothing but marbles drop from my tongue
to fall into your open palms
and then even the clearest of windows aren't safe from your wrath.
My sympathies;
when the skies in the window drop from broken panes
I'll know I held your smoke in
too long.
