smoke rings

she used
to hide her cigarettes
in the house,
Virginia slims,
perhaps a borrowed Lucky
Strike,
or two. you'd
find them in cracks
along the floor board,
tucked
away in cabinets.
under the bed.
over a door jamb.
even now
you find them, ten
years later.
crisp white sticks
of tobacco that she
was forbidden
to smoke, but did
anyway.
they didn't kill her
something else
did.
you imagine her smiling
now,
as you light one
up
and blow smoke rings
to the sky.