The blackening esophagus,
the plague inside her throat,
&the simplicity in her voice echoes hostility.
the windows of her soul caved in,
and the ending line abbreviated her existence with a puff of the poison.
[she spooned her alphabet soup ever so slowly,
slurping up the last bit of "i" and "o" and "u"
choking on the last vowel,
noticing only consonants.]
an electricity formed in her brain,
a shock through her heart,
a t w i s t in her veins.
she's done with the metaphorical sunshine,
invisible rainbows,
and stupid "forget-me-nots" that intricately made their presence known in both of her dulling eyes.
[this is cigarette season,
emphysema painting its way into her every disposition.]
Author notes
I don't smoke, but my poetic side has been drawn to this idea of cigarettes for quite some time.
A contest entry
- for my favorites... by Miss Faith.
1200 points, ended December 22, 2008, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Come on, touch me, show me your imperfect too.
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Hah, yeah, cigarettes can be very poetic. I like the portrayal of this lady, she's very hardened but she does some uncharacteristic things, like eating alphabet soup, unless that was just another twisted metaphor for something that is quite unforeseen.
It's a nice piece, and hopefully I'll see you around the site more often -
i honestly feel like your subconc. was writing about me
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cigarettes, yes!
I love using cigarette images and metaphors in poems. You've nailed it with this one. Emphysema painting...awesome
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i love it
greaat write.
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oh my!
gorgeous.
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