White Hot

I want to write a hot love poem
hot like a coffee cup's steam piercing your nose,
so hot, you have to pull away from it,
letting go cup, coffee, and steam on the concrete.

I want to write a hot love poem
that does not care to learn,
is not afraid to jump to the next
line, re-creating, re-parsing, re-trying.

I want to write a hot love poem
and show my burns, my scalds.
So white hot it erases memories,
the poem getting reborn again.