Ere

Ere I began to worry about the shapely smoke rings
Forming around my carefully sealed coffin.

A ghost, saw I, between the cracks
Woken by the obnoxious hands of indecisive fate,
Chasing after a halo with an artificial sheen.

Fool. They will never believe your imitation.
Your plastic coating is dull under knowing eyes.

Choose wisdom, for once
And return those store-bought wings
That are slowly shedding their dusty feathers.

The ghost turned to meet my cautious stare,
Replying with rhythmic waves of laughter
At my bleeding and naked hypocrisy,
And finally disappearing into the silhouette of the smoke.

I worry no more.