Lost Poem by Marilyn Francis


LOST POEM


It’s a Monday morning in November
and I’m in a coffee shop named
after a character from Moby-Dick
outside, a young kid with wet hair
smokes a cigarette in the rain 
he flicks ash with his thumb
flick, flick. 


I haven’t smoked cigarettes
since I stopped being Juliette Greco
and gave up Gitanes, and the cigarillos
from G Smith & Sons tobacconist 
on the Charing Cross Road
but today, while sipping espresso
at the window of an American coffee bar
in this English tourist town I thought
how much I’d been missing them
not just the smoking, but the whole 
paraphernalia, slipping off the cellophane
sliding the silver paper, tapping out one fag
from a snug row, the firework-night tang
of a scraped match


and the names 
Sweet Afton, Passing Clouds, Sobranie Black Russian
I’d buy them for the poetry. 


I remember my first time
ten Gold Flake from the machine
between three.


I remember my last time
watching the empty packet
of Camel burn in the fireplace.

If you liked Marilyn Francis, you should read Stephen House

Red Silk Slippers by Marilyn Francis

About the contributor

Related Articles

Building a Shed – John Kaprielian

Nature photographer, photo editor and poet, John Kaprielian offers a precisely observed , touching response to the task of building a shed.

Second Wind by Fiona Sinclair

Second Wind Retiring at 65, you get a second wind. Your mornings are tinkering. Your afternoons are feet up watching...

Filigree by Melinda Jane

Melinda Jane, author of the poetry book ‘Nature's Nuptials’ and the children’s book ‘The Currawong and the Owl’.

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

More Like This

On the Tower of Babel – James W. Wood

Two powerful poems from award-winning poet, James W Wood

Life and Conflict in 2019 New Zealand

Philip Muir savours the power of words as both a mode of communication and as an art form.

Poetry- Anne McMaster

Lost and Found inspired by Robert MacFarlane’s The Lost Words You might think we lose these words as one may, casually, lose a small cool coin behind the...

Bind by Christine Murray- Reviewed

Christine Murray uses minimal, impressionistic language to convey images from the natural world. 

Poetry- Pauline Flynn

INTERLUDE At twilight by a low stone wall, a small boy in pyjamas holds a glass box full of fireflies, points to his father swinging a net in...