I am the ironic confetti at the lung cancer party.

My black-lined cagebar eyelashes fluttered at you seductively.

Got a light?

For you, I’ve got thousands.

My smoke clouded up the one thing you wanted to tell you daughter

Before you died—

That you were in the business of saving.

That she should trade in the barcode collection to get a free tote bag

To carry around your ashes in.

Being rescued is just a carton away.