The Smoke
In the dark
the smoke sees
with eyes divine
like an incense
a burnt offering
it rises with the wind
and the smoker marvels
He wakes, eats, sleeps
and longs to inhale
the sweet breath
a nectar bud
this sanity and mirth
inroad into sad
melancholy
He loves to see
the smoke twirl with the wind
serene in the sky
like a god climbing
coming
coming out
to proffer another life
another fire
Stop, stop, stop
he laughs
are they talking to him?
the advertisement talks too
and his little daughter
avoids him
everytime he is covered up
when will they appreciate
that his favourite brand
like a painkiller
is the secret escape
from the aches and discomfort
only he can explain
Now his wife has left
and the doctor says
his lung is darkening
his breath is stained
his blood burns black
lung cancer
or ulcer?
But can it be real
if his palate seek
a fresh taste of the stick?
And now his eyes
are sinking sockets
now the skin starts
to fall away
some acute disease?
What`s the use of worrying
the better for him
to dedicate his whole life
to cigarette smoke till there is
no more breath
no more life in his bones
no more sweet incense
to inhale
Copyright © Jude Chukwuemeka | Year Posted 2008
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