Smoke is not really a thing (NaPoWriMo #2)

This poem was published as part of 30 Poems in 30 Days during National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo 2013).

 

That iron-scrape teeth-grinding tone,
it told me
“You will never be anything
until you write dark poetry.”

But the smooth silk soft soothsaying said
“hope can be mustered”
like rifles or seeds
to wage Just Wars
by overtaking weeds.

The only thing wafting off my body
is smoke.

I listen for the sirens
the ones that are on my side
the rescue kind.

I tune out the sirens
the ones that want me
the love-it-till-afterward kind.

I’m in the afterward
pretending I’m looking forward,
or up at clouds,
wondering if I can float to them.

But the only thing approaching that sky
is smoke.

Everything ultimate I want,
god must be
because some must be
and I am not.

 

This poem was published as part of 30 Poems in 30 Days during National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo 2013).

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