The smoke curls
& coils
itself into
a?
as the air is
stained with jazz
& other rethorical questionings
even now
taking the shape of a heart
that comes together only
to fall - apart
as if to illustrate
her loneliness
in some text book
of the heart & its hurts.
The cigarette now
a perfect replica
of itself
(only in ash)
balanced delicately
on the edge of stolen
hotel ash tray.
The green crystal numbers
stare back like the eyes of a cat
on the tiny digital clock
making up time
as it goes along
Now in the silence
that contains only her
crying
the clock
oblivious
of such human pain
flicks like an airport
destination board
into
00: 00
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/around-midnight-2/
