WHERE THERE IS SMOKE
Sighs in brimstone breath,
the smoke curls round the bones of her
cloaks the glowing veins of her with a softness
that curves round;
Flesh made of gentle deception.
Unseen, the burning core of her courses unchecked
beneath the still exterior: a rage
a promise of hissing burns,
an unyielding movement
never to be staunched or slowed.
It bleeds from her with unconscious neglect.
She summons playful embers at her fingertips
and the smoke obscures her intentions.