Gypsy Dancer

Sunlight splays her gold fingers 

through the window. 

I light a cigarette. Smoke bellows 

from my lips, a ghostly

canon fire. 

With each drag, I perform

movements with my mouth,

to give smoke new life, as it leaves 

my lungs.

Smoke is a gypsy dancer. A long

ribbon of grey, rising up

before my face,

trying to seduce me.

Blinding me with beauty.

She hoops and swirls 

between solid beams of sun,

a mesmerising phantom.

The gypsy dancer is killing me.