One Cigarette


No smoke without you, my fire.
After you left,
Your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray
And sent up a long thread of such quiet grey
I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal
Of so much love. One cigarette
In the non-smoker’s tray.
As the last spire
Trembles up, a sudden draught
Blows it winding into my face.
Is it smell, is it taste?
You are here again, and I am drunk on your tobacco lips.
Out with the light.
Let the smoke lie back in the dark.
Till I hear the very ash
Sigh down among the flowers of brass
I’ll breathe, and long past midnight, your last kiss.


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One Cigarette