I bought you
ashtray after ashtray
a skull & crossbones
screaming:
“Cough...hack...this will be
the death of me! ”
Coffins that pop up
& intone in a grave voice
“Put it out! ”
all to no avail.
It was ashes & butts
ashes & butts
in egg & tea cups
a left or right shoe
a jacket or an overcoat pocket
a cupped palm of the hand
milk, wine or beer bottles
& once
even an upturned bra cup
anything but
an actual ashtray
used for the purpose of...
...oh, I gave up
& started smoking myself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem