Cigarette by the Campfire
Scanning the caramel darkness, like
a frantic panther, my cool, thick,
blossoming honey words-rise off
my face, lunging off your fingers
into the ashes, a spiritual experience
scattered into the outlines of mountains.
Yet when you flick off the universe,
I can almost see the anguished edges,
and as you hugged me, I could feel again.
Taking the first drag…
If not for that cigarette, I feared one without you,
Programmed into a phone without reception,
soft as the look of dampened embers disappearing
into a lonely campfire, so petite and luminous,
all covered in the holy, appearing out of the ashen slush.