The sweetness of liquorice paper
and strawberry tobacco only
the edges of lips cracked from fellatio;
the portent of sex
should have smoothed
tingle of fragmented memory;
the self-hate and denial
instead the smoke stales the image
of your half-smile as you watched me
kiss a new lover; you almost
stuttered in your stride on a street
of Saturday pleasure shoppers.
I waited for the phone to light up
but it was as dead to me as I am to you.
This new lover promised
in his feeble compliments;
in between sheets that were once yours.
As he sleeps the sleep of the hollow,
I smoke strawberry tobacco
by the liquorice of deceit.
If you have any comments on this poem, Sonia Hendy-Isaac would be
pleased to hear them.