Embers
I was a great collaborator with
wartime cigarettes, an artist
with the conical scream-sighs
of life under bombardment.
I trust you more under
a broken street lamp, under
a shattered sky space,
where time stills
Than I ever did at dinner
tables pushed together on
sidewalks where some grand
conspiracy was hatched beneath
Breath you took in so
easily, not as now with
cracked plaster, mulched brick,
petroleum haze.
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