Today's poem is by Dylan Willoughby

Spleen
       

Tonight I am smoking the Gauloises
of the spleen, Gauloises of
the blind angel's mouth. Gauloises
smuggled under interdict.
Smoke hangs over our little atmospheres.
The espresso of my conscience
collects in the tumult of the night air.
You felt the heft of these wings,
you once remarked, like a bland
conflagration. You treasure above
all, the embouchure of the world
meeting world, the double cross of the mirror.

Copyright © 2025 Dylan Willoughby All rights reserved
from antiphony
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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