Color Drip

Dip a finger in the melted wax

Cool on your finger, hardening

Fire is dancing

A cigarette lit from flame


He once told me that smoking is the most

Intimate you can get with fire

Swirling in your lungs

Elbowing everything on its way out


Cancer is inevitable

In the moment I don’t mind

For now this ember I’m sucking on

Is my torch


Glow of string lights in a backyard

Firepit roaring

An excuse as to why I smell smokey

Flames intoxicating


A candle on my desk

Sitting in an old wine bottle

Echoing a crescendo of laughter

Rings of color within, like the rings in a tree


Spilling over the bottle

Forging its own path

Settling into the cool glass

I will not disturb it


Here I will write

In the dancing gold

Flickering on my paper

Words entangled with smoke

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