Black Tar

Her charred tar lungs, Like weathered sacks Release and intake The smoked filled air. Escaping from her cratered lips, Absorbing in her now white hair. She married smoking in the ‘60’s And wears the dingy yellow ring To remind herself of this breathless demon. Lurking deep within. This commitment, Her only commitment Has now come back to teach her The ways in which this wicked world works. Pursed lipped breathing, Hands on her knees, Smoking billowing across the tar black sea. She laughs because it’s easier To have the chuckles take the place Of the black tar life She reluctantly lives today. This wasn’t her intentions. She never was a martyr. But it’s simply the beginning Of a black tar filled tomorrow.