the colour of night

 

cigarette drops from
my hand

rolls across the floor

the walls breath in,
out

in,
out

picking up the
runaway fugitive
smoke

striking a match

the flame jumps
up like a frightened
cat

as disappointment
is washed up on
shore like a dead
fish...

a dead something

a dead anything

me, perhaps

absence paints the
colour of night with
the tongue of a
slobbering
dog