Plastic flowers
on a cold level splay.
Cigarettes lay sizzling
in your
tarred ash tray.
46 and always sick.
My hopes
they were all gone.
Vacuum lips and every bit of smoke
is withdrawn.
Get up
get up
A rush of fire burns.
I'm in its light.
Choked up or chained down.
I burned with it.
And I burned with you.
Every time you coughed
I feared the very worst.
Thinking you ate smoke
to cure your belly's thirst.
Like loose change in a coffee can
your throat it would burst.
And I wanted better for you.
Strangled your days were cursed.
Charred lungs and breath that smoldered.
I just couldn't see it
til I got older.
You spoke through crackles
and you walked as if you were shackled.
And I just watched. I did nothing.

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