Purgatory or Hell

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

When I am dead, I want to be a hot,

Hot, hotter kind of smoke, the hottest smoke

A ghost can be.  I want this smoke, and not,

For only you.  I want to be a steaming cloak

To haunt around you, and, if not, I do

Not want to be your wraith.  That always wraith

I want to be, but then if not for you,

I want to find an always interfaith

With Lucifer before he falls.  He knows

This so perhaps he plans to thwart my heart

And plans to snuff my smoke out while it glows

Around you.  He desires to keep us two apart.

  If steaming ghost around you cannot be,

    I want to be in hell your flaming tree.