I see her and suddenly there’s a fire
blazing in my mouth again.

I see her and I think: loving her would
be like gasoline, like a car crash,
like nails bloody from biting.

I think: when she touches me I taste
gunmetal and smell smoke and there
is blood all over my stomach but I
cannot locate the wound.

I think: I do not feel the pain.

Our love would be bruises, knocked out
teeth, lips swollen from hungry kisses.

Rough me up, I want to say.