the flame

degrees climb to match
the heat of your skin,
rising higher, dropping down
the pitfalls of your pulse,
pressed against the walls of
your throat, exhales peeling off
and sliding sighs dripping
want from lit fingertips
matches, smoke screen beneath
your eyelids as we burn. i
extinguish flat air purging
soft rays of sentiment, all room
left for arson. i am nero over rome,
burning rome, bowing beside
your fiddle, your fickle body.
we float on embers. rising higher,
rising higher, a trail of ashes
leaving poetic memory