Fire & Skin
I want these words to move,
like fingernail and tongue,
across the deepest blue
of patient, Southern skies,
onto the darkest spaces
in between the furnace stars:
to write your name and holy flesh
and all your glory there,
like I would move your fingertips and
close the soft rims of your lips,
your teeth and tongue and drawn-out
breathing down upon my fire-fed skin.