Smoking Mistress Nicotine’s Sister in an upright bent poker tonight.
Upon unzipping her can and lowering her inner lining there is a pronounced initial note of excited unlit tobacco. The leaf is very moist, almost slippery in lubricity and takes the flame like a 22 year-old virgin on her honeymoon. Pack me hard, I want a long smoke tonight, she murmurs as I look for a match. She arches up, desiring to burn and be transmuted into holy smoke. Upon relight, there is a distinct taste of female sweat and pheromones. Initial room note is comparable to that girl at the 10th grade spring dance when you snuck in some apricot brandy. Partway into the bowl, the sophomoric fumblings become more enjoyably experienced and there is a shared sense of tobacco torpor. Deep in the bowl she asks if you will smoke her for the rest of your life. Yes, you answer, breathing heavily.

A smoldering jungle of desire:
Where you discern her smoke, there’s fire.
Pulsating tunnel of delight,
She swells again upon re-light.
Her rounded bowl accepts my flame 
Excusing her from any blame.

After the last spasmodic puff of smoke dies, there is a lingering pleasure which pulsates in the cooling bowl and makes you want to smoke again. I rate this tobacco very highly indeed.

   PROMPT 24: write a poem in the form of a review

Letz keep it real and talk cosmetic care:
You despise a white blonde—but ape her hair.
You celebrate Blackness, but lighten your skin;
Hate on white neighborhoods. Then you move in;
Blame us for everything, covet our goods . . .
Tell me once again about those white hoods.
Culturally appropriate: hair made straight:
Chemical process of permanent hate.

PROMPT 23: write a poem of your own that has multiple numbered sections. Attempt to have each section be in dialogue with the others, like a song where a different person sings each verse, giving a different point of view. Set the poem in a specific place that you used to spend a lot of time in, but don’t spend time in anymore.

If Cain shall be avenged sevenfold,
Then Lamech seventy-sevenfold.

(Genesis 4:23, 24)

Founding cities, slaying sons,
Cain’s descendants ran the guns.
Gangstas reigned, before the flood
Polygamy, hoochies, vengeance, blood…
Doubtful honor was defended;
Love waxed cold, revenge commended.
Lamech laid the lyrix down:
Bragging boasts from a violent clown;
Clueless at the coming deluge
Staking out his Cainite refuge
Before it all was swept away
In Noah’s long-awaited day.
Urban violence, thugs and beats,
Criminals clogging Enoch’s streets;
All the glory misbegotten:
Urban legends long forgotten.