My first and last cigarette by Virna Chessari
Traces of cigarette on the table,
In the shadows smoke around me
Repugnant smell from the ashtray.
I never could stand smoke
But the magic moment of lighting a match,
That mysterious small fire in the dark,
A live coal in my brother’s hand
used to light the spark of my curiosity.
I was eleven years old,
locked in the closet
my first cigarette I ever smoked—
burning lungs and throat,
enough not to want another one.