encore, dissention

let me bury this coal
in the warm innocence of
stark white hands,
my breath returning to me warm
against the spicy-scented
flannel of your shirt.

let it be cupped in your hands.
let it evaporate like so much steam,
like so many leaves after the final storm
of autumn.

let it burn in those fraudulent suns
that are irreconcilable differences and
flourescent lighting.
let my face be hidden from
the painful throb of abstract violence
in the immutable scratch of your hair.