Taylor takes a cigarette
Taylor takes a cigarette. She fidgets,
And asks me for a light. The flint scratches
And the flame sparks yellow in her sad eyes.
She blows a veil. Holding the lighter still
I say “Are you bitter because she died?”
Images then: Ophelia, blue seas,
These sands, these shores, rocks, weeds, waves, and water.
Ophelia. Always water. Always
Her. And yet I am free. My journey down
The river complete. My life has been
Returned – provisionally – and grim Death,
This once, has nodded, smiled, and stepped away.
I never saw if Taylor too nodded,
I never heard a sound, a sigh or word
In answer to my question. There had been
A cigarette, glowing, but now, only
Blue smoke remained, drifting in the the cold air.