Why I Never Started Smoking
Why I Can’t Quit Smoking
We were at the 7/11 by my house
parked in your Mustang with the hood down when
you took out a box of Virginia Slims
and asked me if I smoked
“No,” I said “I don’t like the smell”
You shrugged and lit a fresh one for the road
It’s good you started driving then because
I couldn’t stand the smell of you, like my father
Waning like a morning moon
Through sandpaper chords and weary eyes
he wheezed his last goodbyes from his bed
the stench of his last smoke still
etched like invisible ink
on the tunnels of
his broken lungs
Why I Can’t Quit Smoking
When the fire escape creaks with my clumsy entrance
and windows slam on an alley draft
I want my lips on your papery body
slim and barely lit
to breathe you in like a mistress’s breath
Today, I lost my love, so I am
more than primed for rotting
To have you fill every part of me
And I’ll take it all: Cancer, yellow teeth, an untimely
death
Just give me your word, your ghost inside my lungs
Stick with me, and I’ll keep you burning
Trading life away like poker chips
banking on the hope that
you’ll be there when she leaves
keeping me warm with no intention of
ever burning out
I'm a fan of interesting choices of form, so I really like the way this poem has two mini "titles" within it with two "separate" poems. It's interesting and multi-dimensional, and I'm still trying to figure out whether it's two sides of the same person or 2 acquaintances -- or maybe separate voices of 2 strangers. But I'm ok with that :)
ReplyDeleteIt was also an interesting choice to address the first half to the cigarette ("I want my lips on your papery body"; "to breathe you in like a mistress's breath"; "...to have you fill every part of me"...) and the second addressed to the figure that introduced the speaker to cigarettes ("parked in your Mustang...when you took out a box of Virginia Slims"; "You shrugged and lit a fresh one..."...). I wonder if that has to do with the character who can't quit having so internalized the cigarette versus the one who won't start sees it as an intruder. I like the places these choices take my brain :-)
As usual, the imagery here is creative and visceral. "Trading life away like poker chips" isn't just another way to elaborate on trading life away, but makes me think of desperate poker players with 5-o'clock shadow playing cards as they take a smoke. In the second half (/stanza?) I like the specifications of 7/11, Mustang, and Virginia Slims. Also, sandpaper chords is really smart: a cross between sound and touch, both feeling and hearing the abrasiveness. I might change "weary eyes" to "bloodshot eyes" or "eyes wide open with a faint twitch" to match the tangible quality of the previous description.
Though I do like the ambiguity, I do wonder, if this is one person, does he/she smoke or not? And if these are 2, is there any connection? If it's the former, maybe another description can connect the dots a bit. If it's the latter, maybe connect them somehow through the 7/11 or something?
Great poem:)
I love this poem for a lot of reasons. First, it plays around with form by having these two very different narratives on cigarettes, each with individual titles, within the larger framework of the single poem. Second, doing so makes the reader wonder if they are separate- two dissenting voices on a phenomenon- or a progression from one to the next, the self-righteous anti-smoking speaker caving in the end to the temptation out of the hardship of life. Which leads to the third- that almost no existent issue has just one side, that life is complicated and issues are complex, and this poem self-consciously acknowledges that.
ReplyDeleteI almost want to believe its a progression- because the desire for the cigarette in the second sounds masochistic, self-destructive, the more so in light of the first. If this is the case, its a beautiful pairing, and I would just make it a little more clear, possibly by indicating the passage of time somehow. If they are simply two juxtaposed narratives, I think you did a fascinating job- maybe fill in their backgrounds a bit more? That being said, I love this. Love.
Wow. This poem is absolutely beautiful. It is fluid in its narrative and poignant in its imagery. As all of your poems, i adore it. A few of my favorite lines are:
ReplyDelete"Waning like a morning moon
Through sandpaper chords and weary eyes"
"etched like invisible ink
on the tunnels of
his broken lungs"
"I want my lips on your papery body
slim and barely lit
to breathe you in like a mistress’s breath"
"Trading life away like poker chips"
The only comments i really have, which i feel should be said but dont necessarily stand as needing for editing, is lack of clarity on whether there are one narrator or two which leads into my second comment which is that the two parts of the poem each feel almost like their own independent poems. if it is in fact two narrators this leans towards that implication, if not it can lead towards changing of perspective.
overall, a truly phenomenal poem.