By Tara Betts
You shrinking limb turned ash
with orange eye lidded in smoke
You skin of oils & herbs rolled
into resin, charcoal, wood flesh
Your core of gums holding
scent tight until heat arrives
Sandalwood, Jasmine, Ylang-Ylang,
Amber, Dragonsblood, Nag Champa,
Rose, Cedarwood, Patchouli, Lavender
You are a bulb of honeyed fog broken
open to chase demons away and insects
You clear the mind’s canvas, cleanse
the corners to make room for thoughts
Closed eyes, chant, & crossed legs
all remain your consistent friends
For your less spiritual devotees,
you are Saturday morning ritual
You rise like a welcome ghost as
dusting begins & floors are mopped
You arrive at houses when parties begin
blend into transparent camouflage barely
A twin or thin veil for marijuana mingling
into your smoky joints when night laugh
You regardless of purpose or pleasure
bring all that lean dwindling can offer
Incendiary, incensed until orange eye closes,
Your single wavery arm lingers, disappears