Ashes

I sit on the edge of the bed, smoking cigarettes,
dimly aware of a pillow that has fallen on the floor,
nicotine melting the lump in my throat

I like the way the yellow lamplight casts
my shadow against the absurd smoothness of the walls,
my skin like a thick blur

A last puff, then I toss the cigarette into a dark corner,
perhaps right into the waiting petals
of my potted plant's perfect new flower