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.