Romance with crushed cigarettes
Dangle between my fever—hot lips
when I incline my neck and puff, puff, huff
in a thin stream of repose as I tilt my reason
toward the coal above my coiling head,
like the snake between your wavering legs.
It snaps its jaw as I bite into my brute,
stout, cracked skin: holding the tar
in our tenuous lungs and hack, hack, grunt
like this cold night when disease crawls
under the parting of my quivering chin.