One of a dying breed -
an elegant smoker - you lean
casually against the wall
and watch the dance-floor
through the mirror.
You kiss your girlfriend
and whisper a smokescreen
of lies, while you reflect
on another woman.
Your girlfriend keeps
a voodoo doll in her purse -
savage with pinpricks.
Smoke burns her eyes.
previously published in Anon Magazine and in my pamphlet Unthinkable Skies
5 comments:
So many interpretations within many of these images. Enjoyed it.
I remember this one from 'Unthinkable skies' - love it, especially the voodoo doll (but why do you call your book a pamphlet?
Thanks Gordon and Gabrielle.
Gabrielle, Pamphlet is the British name for a chapbook, a small book of poetry or short stories.
Now if only she could have been dancing to Bryan Ferry’s cover version of ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes’ this would have been perfect. I’m kidding. It works fine. I have to say had the poem being mine I would have been tempted to fiddle a bit more with it and probably ruined it in the process. You need to know when enough is enough. Good poem.
For people with multiple blogs, I tend to follow one thinking that it'll be easy to pop over and look at the other one, of course I always forget (I'm sure this happens to my other blog as well), so I get plenty of your wanderings along the Water of Leith but not so much of your lines - must remedy this.
Enjoyed Illusions - well written
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