The tip of her cigarette and
It is as if the room fell away
Diagonally from the stationed
Smoke. The chair is leather,
Red and her bourbon is red.
The smoke veils up her face
In gouts of consistent grey
And white and her face is
Visible like a photograph behind.
She takes a sip of bourbon.
The room is still falling off,
But somehow now it is as if
A compartment in her had
Come open and the scene enclosed
In her torso, and all of it as
A diorama with articulated parts.
She drags the cigarette and it all
Charges and clarifies a moment and
The world holds fire within that space.
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