Cigarettes, a spontaneous poem by Keith Badowski

Cigarettes

We don’t want to burn!
Cool as it looks, turning to ash
is something we’d love to postpone.
Just look at us snug in this pack,
our filters so white and clean,
in our orderly rows like cells.
From here we’re causing no harm,
all our poisons calmly inert.
We don’t want to cause cancer
or scar lungs or stain fingers.
Think of our white paper as a flag—
each of us has the skin of a pacifist.
Spare us the germy dampness
of your mouth and sweaty hands.
Pardon us, we beg, from incineration
in that holocaust of the ashtray.


Keith Badowski

Inspired by this prompt