Cigarettes in God's Angry Hand

We used to smoke in church
underneath pews laughing,
playing hide and seek. Not
venerating Eve or stained-glass
icons but kindling conflagrations.

On Sundays we blackened
barbeque ribs, warmed apple
cider, and cured salted pork.
Gossamers of smoke formed alphabets
on church ceilings and darkened our eyes

with soot. We burned nine layers
of black circles in newspaper
ashtrays and held candles
under dangling arachnids we
never forgave for slinking.

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All writing is the original work of Brian Wright and may not be copied, distributed, re-printed or used any form without express written consent of the author. Find out here how to CONTACT me with publishing and/or use questions