Feathersmoke
A woman presses her lips around
soft cotton
and with her other hand
she lights.
what she adores about you most
is breathing.
a breath, and then suddenly
you are inside of her.
a moment passes and still
you are deep, burning from within
tingling neck, her head is a balloon
and she stops breathing
as you escape into the tall sky
she plays with the cotton between her slender fingers
for a little longer
tapping the torch until ashes land like fallen leaves
but just when seconds age
the woman longs to kiss you softly again
you’re lethal
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