Smoke Poem by Oisin Vink

And so she rose again,
Attracted to the corners.
If only you could have stayed a little longer;
To cover over the embers that still burn here.
Little glimmer,
Ashtrays to cry into -
Once I have laid my head down

You have always become obtuse and spectacular,
Clinging to the woodwork.
Although, I have two views of you –
Maybe it is me that you cling to,

Carrying a great weight inside of those lofty spirals.
An illusive little god.

And there you are,
If only momentarily;
Out of reach.
Drifting into a whiteness,
The patterns in the glass -

And so she comes to pass.