Yiska lit up
a cigarette;
eyed the Indian woman
sitting on the opposite sofa
who moved beads
on string,
muttering words
in her own tongue.
Next to her sat
the the Glaswegian,
stoney eyed,
inhaling deep,
gazing at the beads
and fingers
moving them along,
muttering four-letter
obscenities just
under her breath.
Benedict sat
next to Yiska
watching smoke
from his cigarette
rise in twirls
above his head.
Yiska sat with him
at dawn,
both alone,
both smoking,
her head
on his shoulder,
his hand on her thigh,
both boringly
playing I-spy.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 12:22 PM UTC
Yiska lit up
a cigarette;
eyed the Indian woman
sitting on the opposite sofa
who moved beads
on string,
muttering words
in her own tongue.
Next to her sat
the the Glaswegian,
stoney eyed,
inhaling deep,
gazing at the beads
and fingers
moving them along,
muttering four-letter
obscenities just
under her breath.
Benedict sat
next to Yiska
watching smoke
from his cigarette
rise in twirls
above his head.
Yiska sat with him
at dawn,
both alone,
both smoking,
her head
on his shoulder,
his hand on her thigh,
both boringly
playing I-spy.
A young man and girl in a locked ward in 1971
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