6-24 Her Ashes

This I wrote when jess was a teenager, and is self-explanatory. Thank God she permanently quit some years later.

Her Ashes

 

From the basement couch, this early morning

Her smoker’s cough spews up the stairs.

Her teenage girlfriend snores, dreams on.

 

She hacks again and again and again

 

A throat singed, match-dead dry, desert-rock bare.

 

A horned-toad’s back germinates on her windpipe.

 

Dark cargo piles in her pulmonary bays.

 

 

 

 

 

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