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Across the room

My husband lights a cigar

He asks first, a reflex

Won’t the smoke bother me

 

My answer always the same

No, go ahead, I say

He waves away the smoke

Apologetic, grateful for my indulgence

 

The smoke takes me back

The announcer calling the play

My father’s halo floating above his chair

All is right, whistles blowing, tackles made

 

Later the smoke hangs

Draped on the flowers in the vase

Used, the fresh air spent and gone

I yearn for the window to be open