Poetry / About / CV
Borrowed Smoke
between two fingers
passing back and forth
a damp filter
don’t inhale too deeply
just like you said
leaving a church like a steam bath
the long Paris night blows through me
the first was from Côte d’Ivoire
the concert crowd at the edge of my vision
a real flame is lit
from smoke to lips
from lips to fingers
from fingers to night
wrapped in the same smoke
we awaken
from fingers to lips
from lips to smoke
from smoke to morning
wrapped in the same smoke
we drift into sleep
between two fingers
passing back and forth
a damp filter
don’t get too attached
you, too, are borrowed
soon
the heat reaches my fingertips
and still I can’t let go