Photo of a man lighting up in the snow
In the wrong shoes, no gloves,
his dark coat and hat are greyed with snow.
He is in white-out, stopped in his tracks,
dying for the comfort of a fag.
He makes a chalice around the flame,
hands becoming shield so he can light up.
The photo shortens him, shot from above,
looks down on his foolish habit.
We don’t learn anything more than this,
only catch him in the act, before grey ash falls
at his unprepared feet; before he draws
a little more on his white stick, coughs
contaminated out breaths into the cold air.
Maybe he casts the butt the way smokers do,
a party trick flick that sends what’s left to fall
like a rogue snowflake, dirtying the drifts.
Maybe he rubs his hands, blows stale swirls
between numb fingers, prepares his own cremation.
Pat Edwards is a writer, reviewer, and workshop leader from mid Wales. She hosts Verbatim open mic nights and curates Welshpool Poetry Festival. Pat has work published in magazines and anthologies, and in her three pamphlets.