This Last One (Cigarette #3) Poem by Charles Malcolm

This last one will burn pure
with perfect intent and perception
and confusing clarity
and her blue-crystalline fire
will coat my lungs
and melt the flesh from my bones.

Some things are far too tangled and convoluted
to be straightened or clarified
with anything other than fire.

I could have lied about having her,
tossed her aside
or sucked the life from her paper shell,
but she's my last,
and I have decided
to save her.