Sunday, June 12, 2016

Boat in a Plate

He put the boat in a plate,
devoured its folds.

His cigarette, an oar, he
rowed across the smoke,
rolled towards her
papery whiteness.

He let the smoke inflate
his existence; choked
another oar between his fingers.

The boat within the circle,
away from the river of smoke,
lingered a captive of fate.

Boat in a plate.

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