my element is smoke.
dirty, captivating, floating, dissolving… choking.
my punishment is ephemerality, impermanence.
i am fascinated by the macabre
and also terrified.
my penance is letting go –
i self-sabotage and end up in purgatory.
there’s a smoke machine manned by spirits smoking cigarettes that smell unfamiliar – that one: a cigar.
my job, they say, is to clean the air by breathing:
it gives me anxiety and
the spirits shape-shift into various things they know unsettle me
so i name them Puck 6, Puck 2, Puck 5/
my least favourite small numbers.
when i get out of here, i will take up smoking again.
i will blow smoke in the face of everyone i see
and end up back where i came from –
unless i decide to change.
which i might.
feigeleh 