I.
In the old red truck–
its redness consuming like a whole mouth–
I lit a match for you there.

II. 
Smoke and sulphuric scent,
phosphor puff–
wood stick
these
parts
are
the

ma-
th-
ch-
es

b
o
d
y

III.

Glow of light in the dust,
a map of wanting.
Our breath mingled with the fire there,
for a time. 

IV.
I light a match. 
In my throat, I bite back and watch
my thoughts  d  i  s  s  o  l  v e
like so much smoke–
scent lingers.