Day: January 11, 2022

It’s been a whole month
Since she shut down the show;
No more retching and gagging
On smoke that she blows. 

No longer she reeks
Of the nicotine burned,
A quart of perfume
Unneeded, returned.

Her fingers no longer
Contribute the taste
Of smoldering ash
To her pesto and paste.

She’s recovered the use
Of her body and wares;
She can walk a full block,
Navigate a few stairs.

The aroma still clings
Like a beer to its foam
In the paint that has yellowed
On the walls in her home.

But that will in time
Dissipate into air,
Like the odor that clings
To her clothing and hair.

But she’s made it indeed,
She’s freed from the weed
That she suckled to feed 
Her nicotine need.

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