Even An Angel Takes Her Cigarette Breaks

gray0328

Even an Angel Takes Her Cigarette Breaks

 

The way ash falls like snow, you’d think

a sort of purity underscored

her habit. Yet there is in her

 

hands a trembling, a quiver like

the first time a soul feels the weight

of flesh. She breathes smoke and

 

pauses the symphony of celestial

duties – for a moment, the heaviness

of wings is gone, replaced by

 

a hush, an exhale. The aftertaste

of burnt offerings lingers like a

prayer unanswered. Watching her,

 

I wonder how even angels carry

their quiet wounds. She flicks ash

into oblivion, each speck a small

 

betrayal, a concession to the

brutal, the divine. She smolders,

engulfed in the frail light of

 

dusk, where even the holy

find shadows to steal them away,

if only for the span of a single drag.

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Comments +

Comments3

  • sorenbarrett

    Up in smoke. The breath of life also the dying breath a most sensuous poem all sealed with a coffin nail. Lovely Gray

    • gray0328

      Thanks Soren, I appreciate your feedback. I saw the picture of the angel and couldn't resist writing about it

    • Thomas W Case

      Powerful imagery.

      • gray0328

        Thanks for sharing your feedback, I appreciate your support

      • TobaniNataiella

        A beautifully written poem, which i really enjoyed reading



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