Cigarette Sestina (it's a work in progress, and i'm sure the title will change too.)
She forgot about her cigarette.
Sitting on the beat up couch, staring out the window,
the Marlboro Menthol Light dissolves to ash,
falls to the cigarette littered floor (her fingers, burned,
abandoned their grasp.) I am a mother,
she thinks. I cant let myself get diseased.
The plants inside the house are all diseased.
She fumbles for the pack, lights another cigarette,
inhales. They can live without a mother.
She cant see outside clearly: the windows
are clouded, stained by the cigarettes burned,
too much smoke, and years of misplaced ash.
They turned him into ash.
If she could have only seen it, found it, the disease
would have been conquered, destroyed, burned
like his favorite cloves before he gave up cigarettes,
and told her, staring at the snow through the window,
Those thingsll kill you. Ive gotta stick around, be a father.
She never thought shed be a single mother,
his brittle body turned to ash,
kept in a maple box under her bed. The windows
should be boarded up. Theres too much disease
here. Nobody wants to see me. Her cigarettes
smoke forms ringlets in the air as it burns
away the shredded tobacco and fiberglass, burns
her blackened esophagus and lungs. My mother
lived to almost eighty, smoked cigarettes
until she died. She didnt melt away to ash.
She was just old, not diseased.
this is where Ill have a line that ends with window.
She sees her daughter coming through the window.
Out there people were not burned.
Out there the plants are green, growing, not diseased.
I wish that I could save you, Mother
I dont want to scatter both my parents ashes.
She begs her to put out the cigarette.
The disease keeps me here. I am no mother.
Through the window I watch the world burn.
They turned it all to ash. She lights another cigarette.
She forgot about her cigarette.
Sitting on the beat up couch, staring out the window,
the Marlboro Menthol Light dissolves to ash,
falls to the cigarette littered floor (her fingers, burned,
abandoned their grasp.) I am a mother,
she thinks. I cant let myself get diseased.
The plants inside the house are all diseased.
She fumbles for the pack, lights another cigarette,
inhales. They can live without a mother.
She cant see outside clearly: the windows
are clouded, stained by the cigarettes burned,
too much smoke, and years of misplaced ash.
They turned him into ash.
If she could have only seen it, found it, the disease
would have been conquered, destroyed, burned
like his favorite cloves before he gave up cigarettes,
and told her, staring at the snow through the window,
Those thingsll kill you. Ive gotta stick around, be a father.
She never thought shed be a single mother,
his brittle body turned to ash,
kept in a maple box under her bed. The windows
should be boarded up. Theres too much disease
here. Nobody wants to see me. Her cigarettes
smoke forms ringlets in the air as it burns
away the shredded tobacco and fiberglass, burns
her blackened esophagus and lungs. My mother
lived to almost eighty, smoked cigarettes
until she died. She didnt melt away to ash.
She was just old, not diseased.
this is where Ill have a line that ends with window.
She sees her daughter coming through the window.
Out there people were not burned.
Out there the plants are green, growing, not diseased.
I wish that I could save you, Mother
I dont want to scatter both my parents ashes.
She begs her to put out the cigarette.
The disease keeps me here. I am no mother.
Through the window I watch the world burn.
They turned it all to ash. She lights another cigarette.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
silence_breaks:
i'm a huge advocate of using italics instead of quotation marks. kudos on that, first of all. your sestina-in-progress succeeds where others have failed miserably: choosing the six end-words thoughtfully, with the integrity and sheer violence of a sestina in mind. i'm sure you know of elizabeth bishop's sestinas - those are my favorite in this particular form - check them out for inspiration/guidance. and let me know if there's anything i can help you with.
corroded_heart:
I know nothing about good writing but anything that conjures up strong imagery is A+ in my book and this does a superb job of that. I'd love to read the finished product.