Smoke
It's pitch black out here as we stand on the porch at the back of my house. The flare of light from his cigarette burns away a bit of the darkness, and I am compelled to ask him, "Why do you smoke so much? Aren't you worried that you're killing yourself?". Laughing, he tells me that he smokes because he doesn't want anyone else to take credit for his death.
hellfire sermon —
catching the breeze
from a paper fan
previously published in Frogpond XXXI:1
Poignant and to the point.
Posted by:Felicia | February 29, 2008 at 09:34 AM
wow, collin. to me, this is "just right." succinctly written, to-the-point prose that successfully draws the reader in... and then that haiku with it!
Posted by:janet | February 29, 2008 at 09:44 AM
p.s. what a coincidence. Felicia and i were posting at the same time and both wrote "to the point."
Posted by:janet | February 29, 2008 at 09:45 AM
Fine work, Collin.
Posted by:Bill Kenney | February 29, 2008 at 09:06 PM
Masterfully written, Collin. I especially like this line "...flare of light from his cigarette burns away a bit of the darkness...". The 'ku nicely dots the i on the piece.
Posted by:Curtis Dunlap | March 01, 2008 at 08:57 AM
Ditto Curtis.
Posted by:aurora | March 01, 2008 at 04:26 PM
Enjoyed.
Posted by:Robert | March 02, 2008 at 10:47 AM
This is really good.
Posted by:Jennifer | March 02, 2008 at 11:20 AM
I agree with all of the above.
Posted by:Claire | March 02, 2008 at 11:56 AM
Thanks all. I appreciate the comments and encouragement.
Posted by:collin | March 02, 2008 at 03:52 PM