Abstract Poems

	Smoke Screen Your smoke is generous You combust in white clouds Driftwood escapes your nostrils An alveolus puffs like a fungus Curling the smoke into anemones Sifting the open sea Someone said your lungs are made Into hard, tarred back alleys Immortalised by a gene When your hot smoke breaks Into the back of my throat blood runs Backwards craving oxygen Smoke dumbs its way through you So cool and cool as devil's fingers Blowing its rings like marriage vows When I get home that night My clothes taste like cotton kippers Charred tobacco kissing me goodnight © David Incoll 2001
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