A little heat rises
from a tube of dried leaves clenched
between my lips. The breath
is mine. The fire too.
The sad, distracted smoke?
All you.
-- Mar Walker, curmudgeon
Love is a figment. Figs are preferable. But I hate figs too.
The prompt was to find a metaphor for your current love. What current love I might ask....The photo was taken at a high school play. It's a little over exposed, sort of like love.... Just for the record, I don't smoke either.
The prompt was to find a metaphor for your current love. What current love I might ask....The photo was taken at a high school play. It's a little over exposed, sort of like love.... Just for the record, I don't smoke either.
5 comments:
In a Deanna Troi moment, I will say, "I sense cynicism!" Hang in there. It will bowl you over one day.
Beautiful poem.
I like this poem. Lots.
"...sad, distracted smoke?"
Good work!
LOVE LOVE LOVE this, Mar!!!!!!!!!
Interesting that we both sort of had a fire theme going on today.
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