A portion of the art by Jennifer CamposWelch

Morning Ritual

She lights a cigarette:

ripe black berries –
her lips – hold
without regret
the cigarette
which she rolls
with the smoothness
of silk –
her lips horizontally
caressing the glued end;
the warm Sun
collects its warmth
and places it
in the fierce flash of fire
struck by the matches
gripped in her palm.

Tap falls the ash
that crashes into a heap
or disperses in the air,
or gets into the nose
eyes and ear, of a
person standing near.

Clouds on hills,
the chocking grey smoke
fills the air
and the time between
her arrival and departure.

Sans her
there is not much
to see or do,
but her to woo.

***

A portion of the art by Jennifer CamposWelch

 

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