Human Torch In Flagrante Delicto

My charcoal conspires

with an incalescent breath, a molten wind

rushing over your concrete drive like a lover

hastily reddening

her three-alarm lips, I have

what you burn for and drag it

through the oily streets, my flame

draws its tongue across the sclera

of your briquette eyes.            Eyes

sizzling deep in your

pyromantic face.         Intent, I fly

from your window,

back-drafted, you are my bed-wetter

by sadism, scratching your fingers

over the warning: close cover

before striking.            You suffer

my advance until you wake, chained

to my exothermic reaction, the heat

between us is ripe enough

to pick, our fruit

twists like a pillar of fire

and our wandering voices blaze

in the smoldering wilderness




dverse: the verbs