A Temple for Smoke

Gain one minute.
Give back five.
That’s the theology of smoke.

It bellows from a burning scroll.
It ascends the church steeple–
Infiltrates by way of ashen veins
That congeal between the bricks.

Its words on my tongue
Doth sting
And doth stain

But when expelled from my lips?
I kiss a moment of flavor.
One of comfort.
One of still…

While mother nature and sister time
Lay greater burdens on my back,
Beside the landlord and my manager–
–Gambling with my time and dues,

Lady smoke, she rubs my knees
While I sit weary in the foyer
She whispers sweet flirtations;
“My darling, taste my honeyed fruit”

I give my worship day and night
–15 minute recitations
They give me strength for one more push

Until it’s time to smoke again.