Suhaila El-Jallad

Hook-up

Match. sulfur ash of black wood

burning. me. a cough. swirls

of intoxication. getting

drunk on unbreathable air. yours.

an aura.

You form sentences out of charcoal and think

it’s something lasting.

Mirror. scarlet shards

of marred perfection. a glance. devoured face

through broken light. reflected

me. seven years bad luck. or innocence

eaten.

You swing wildly, seductively—as if to gesture in meaning

to life,

and me.

Mess. piles of rotting us

in garbage. a glowing guilt. not

masked by smoking reflections.

here’s me. drunk on charcoal sentences.

and you. passing out from this grayed inhalation.

this aura.