Photo by George Kunze

Nicholas Johnson

Smoking Villanelle

You sit and smoke another cigarette.
You pray each time you feel the end is near.
How many miracles can you expect?

I miss the cross you wore around your neck.
I know sometimes you think that God can hear.
You sit and smoke another cigarette.

You've suffered from attention and neglect.
It's hard to see you, shaking, full of fear.
How many miracles can you expect.

You know the things you love, you must protect.
Take a deeper breath. Wipe away the tear.
Sit down and have another cigarette.

I know you count on things you can't forget:
The smoky rooms, the music in your ear,
how many miracles you can expect.

We're here today. Gone somewhere else the next.
The church bells always ring at noon. Ring clear.
Sit down, love. Have another cigarette.
How many miracles can you expect?