A poem based on The Treachery of Images
No, of course it’s not a pipe,
and I am not a woman
looking at an image
of a pipe,
and this is not
a love poem.
Just today I did not put a frame
around my tears.
I felt them slip,
wet and messy,
hot and light
against my cheeks,
the rich and pungent
scent of smoke
nowhere
to be found.