Yet another burning poem about us.

Of course  when the cathedral burned down  I was thinking of you.  I was thinking of you
  & all the sunlight, & all the wind  that wrapped in the space  between scarf & throat.
I was thinking of you  & that weekend we spent in Paris,  skin bitter & tongues lashing.  I was thinking
of you  like a cathedral.   Of course I would.    The poet compares love
to a burning holiness.  & nothing new.    Of course I would think of you,  just as your
  name was running away.  My body is aflame.    In this poem,
we are standing in front of Notre Dame,   gold in the sunset.     In this poem,
  Notre Dame is both your body  & my body &    how they ran away from each other
in the same bed.  In this poem,  I write it all out again.  In this poem, it is october
  & six months have gone up  with the smoke.  In this poem we are chasing a prayer
we have already shot    down.   In this poem  there is a leak in the cellar &
    explosives between our teeth.  We avoid smiling    the whole weekend.