LGBTQ+ Poetry

Lavender Cigarette

Squeezed all sweaty into your palm

Photo of author

Was I a hand-rolled
lavender cigarette,
squeezed all sweaty
into the winter flower
of your palm?

Did I vanish,
like a coin trick,
lost to the smoke
of more dreams
that won’t fit nicely
with the pictures
above her hearth?

Did the fire
we made
scare you?

Did you feel
our flaming love
snaking down
your throat
like another
fever dream
you tried to bury
in hard snow melting
like more Kentucky
nightmares dripping
down your suede boots?

Were they ready for us?
Were you?
Was I?

Did we choke
on the embers
of a memory rewired
by the evening news?