I draw a soldier from the foil and tap the crinkled end
Compacting the tobacco dark and rich as Flander’s soil
And slip the smells back in the box.

A match sparks against rough jeans and with cupped hands
I nurture the flame to life. The red bulb, once safe explodes
And with each intake of breath the Salt Peter stutters and spits.
This tube of pleasure starts a journey that will surely end
As ash. But there is always a small part left
To be ground under my boot,
A clue to be found of where I was.

My dancer stops and is now motionless in the moon
Captured as I will be at the point of ecstasy.
I come out from the veiled lady’s room
Weighed with guilt but warm from love.
I am strong, confused and feel your movements that rubbed my soul.
What was the reason that I fell in love with you,
You, who hold and keep our dreams secret.

Close the curtains, that is the plan but I know you are looking
Up to the ceiling as thick blue smoke curls and drifts from your fingers
As I was once entwined and settles to the pale fringes of the light.


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