Integumentary

Two in form,
the moment is.
And perhaps not.
Suspended.
Breathe in
the shampoo
and sweat
from her hair.
Skin
covered in rain
and I drag the
blistered burn
on my hand
across,
a cigarette
sparking one thousand
pieces as
the lungs
draw its flue,
it goes
down
inside us.
It is searing.
Everything should
be
as this is.