I wrapped her exercise book in a plastic cover,
A belated shield for the patchwork stains
and damp riddled corners.
Saturated in smoke, blue margins
and lines form a cigarette smile.
How much do her little lungs hold,
If the very pages of her future
are steeped in poison?
I wrapped her exercise book in a plastic cover,
To protect the pride inside
as it is stifled without.
The smoker’s guilt weighing heavy
on the off-white shirt cuffs of an eleven year old
who swears she’ll never touch the stuff.
How much can a cover do,
When it is her blazer and bag too?