Mother Daughter Smoke Rings

Mother leaves
her cigarette at rest,
it burns the lip
of our stainless
kitchen sink.

Mother polishes
her fingernails
fire-engine red.
She doesn’t puff,
but the ashen end
inches toward us.

Mother leaves
the baby’s bassinette,
the cries of my
sister cradled.

A crimson flame
sparks within,
the little match
extinguishes.

Sara Parrott’s poetry has appeared in Nine Mile Magazine and on several posters printed by The Syracuse Poster Project. She has a Master’s Degree in English from Binghamton University.