Sonnet to Hand-Rolled Golden Virginia

You are right. It does come first. White
touchpaper thin as a host, then gunpowder,
fuse, and the rest will follow, sure as breath.
Little promethean acts that set the world
alight. Ritual origami for the spiritually lost.
Forgive the quick intimacy at bars and parties,
for we know each other in the lung, the heart;
smoke-screen wizards all. And I a good enough
person otherwise. I take the stairs. Buy vegetables.
Am a paid-up member of Amnesty International.
I hold down a job, between fag-breaks. Angel I am
not. Everyone needs forgiving. So forgive me, but
I won’t quit. And if this helps you to overlook my
other, many, far more grave shortcomings, so be it.

– Tiffany Atkinson


About handshedown

Keighley Perkins is a Cardiff-based poet whose influences include Anis Mojgani, Selima Hill and Richard Brautigan. Her work has previously been published in "Acumen", "Elbow Room", "Erbacce", "Fire", "Northwind" and "Obsessed with Pipework". She can also be found online on Twitter at @handshedown. View all posts by handshedown

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