A Smoke Signal...................................8

Called to the telephone
that evening, I clutched
the receiver
of untouchable treasure.

It took me a while
to work out what
the soft
"click"
was in your break of words:
having posed a question
you must have thought it safe enough.
I could sense you, curious,
listening to me listening,
the smile in your voice
as you asked me to go on.

Then,
with the swift sound
of sucked in smoke,
I knew what you were doing:
the sup-pull of rolled paper tip
from your lips
like in the pub before,
you wrapped in tobacco smell;

alone in the hall's welling shadows
i was jealous
of your cigarette.