the heat of me is obstinate, forcing itself
against my ribs and my tight-shut mouth, searching
for openings, for opportunity.
heat like sonar, measuring lengths and times, waiting
for words as they bubble up into
my brain, attaching itself
to the sentences as they swarm across my tongue.
the syllables come out red, fluid, angry,
sizzling with a fire i thought i had contained.
what i say then, much less than how i say it,
overshadowed by combustion
and the processes of molecular agitation:
burning with minuscule desires,
a hot heart pouring out with tempered articulation.