But the wicked will perish; the enemies of the Lord are like the glory of the pastures; they vanish—like smoke they vanish away.
We sat together
in the hot afternoon.
I felt a trickle of sweat
tickle as she pulled
out another cigarette.
I watched each
exhale-plume rise
like a writhing flower,
eager to bloom but
finding itself in
the air ill at ease,
expanding in search
of room to breathe,
vanishing into the
next wisp of breeze.