Poetry Specials: Lucy Cunningham

Great Little Cigarette
Moments 1

We plucked at strings
now pluck at burs
clasped to our coats,
whilst the melody you hum
keeps with our paces
a bar at a time,
legato as we slide down drifts,
your mustard coat stark against the bland ground,
mine burnt umber.
Burnt like the smoke
exhaled, inhaled
steady rhythm,
by my occasional cough
on the sweet poison you’re so accustomed to.
Looking wrongly beautiful with that cigarette
hung haphazardly from your lips,
charred cherry glowing saphron,
crackling like early vinyl.
Together we light mine,
a feeble quiver of light
in encroaching dark.
Inhaling, exhaling
steady rhythm,
ethereal long limbed tendrils
simmering all responsibilities.
Tobacco blown. Breaths shared.
A mezzo forte rift of smoky laughter left to resonate.

By Lucy Cunningham

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