September smokes a hot coal cigarette
drawing a a death rattle
of air as she watches
green things die.
Her dirty urban window
wavers and covers the world in a filmy
plastic sheet that sticks to
pillows and open mouths like glue.
September coughs and
flecks of ash alight on her
charred wooden floor. From
her cigarette.
She coughs on an ivy and
it shrivels.
3 comments:
Did you write this? It's very good. I love the line - "watching green things die." Sad. But true.
QUIRKYEXPLOSION.blogspot.com
Thank you! I did write it, in response to a barely endurable heat wave that was passing through. My dorm room was literally an oven.
Wonderful, evocative poem
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