This one particularly resonated with me because I'm about 2/3 into "Demon Copperhead" by Barbara Kingsolver and the poem and novel are echoing each other.

Poem with a Smoke Cloud Hanging in It
by Jackson Holbert

Today I will sit
in the grass and smell
the sunlight. I will leave
the pills in their bottles,
I will leave the bottles
by my bed. I will walk
to the insane river. I will let
the crazy wind cut and curve
around me. I will close
my eyes and dream
of medical sewage
poisoning the river a hundred
miles upstream. And somewhere
in all that trash
there is a little hit
of morphine. I will think
if nothing ever leaves
then the wind is full
of all the smoke I ever blew.
And if nothing ever leaves
does that mean I'm still
dopesick at fifteen, telling
my parents the flu is going around?
If I am then so what.
I am also walking through the cemetery
at dawn, friends
on both sides of me—our little
drunken army marching
out of the night.
If I am, then so what. I am also
lying in my bed at twenty-two staring
so deeply at the bark beetle-riddled trees
that I don't notice
the vacant light lessening then
leaving entirely. I don't notice
when the night climbs into my bed
like a terrified brother and the wind
slams the door.

https://poems.com/poem/poem-with-a-smoke-cloud-hanging-in-it/

#poem #poetry #literature #writing