Scrimshaw

I recall my first taste of tobacco leaf,
thick was the space with wispy wreaths.

Brisk was the air & biting the night,
as I breathed tainted breath from a scrimshaw pipe.

My lungs filled with smoke & my head was afloat-
     among midnight clouds & ambient sounds
     I began to feel light in my feet.

Set was the scene, sky’s stars serene,
until, eyes closed & full was my nose,
my mind filled with sweet pipe dreams.


-C.Marie