Kissing Boys

Kissing Boys

I used to have wild hair
the kind that knit 
tangles in the keyholes
of all the sweaters
and knots in the toes of 
the kissing boys who 
used to tip toe in 
after school like 
little princes to
slay that imaginary line
between two lips (where we 
found the kisses 
we taught not to go)
writhing with their 
soft tongues, 
hide and go, to and fro 
but not find

Now my hair is straight 
and my lips are parted
and every man is you 
with both eyes covered

The cat’s left the foot
of the bed, my dear
Oh, yes, oh, yes to sew 
the lines of our bodies 
together like a blanket
The dig of a fingernail 
A bend in the neck 
that locks up 
the hunger on 
the back 
of my tongue

My belly is a cage and
my two feet are bare and
you are late, very late 
After all the kissing boys are gone,
I come back to your mouth 

33 responses to “Kissing Boys”

  1. Un beau poème qui tombe et se précipite puis qui ralentit et serpente et qui sonne si belle et si merveilleusement bien faite. ‘Puisse les dieux me donner l’occasion d’embrasser une bonne et jolie Américaine dans un jean moulant comme je le vois toujours dans les magazines et le cinema’, pensais-je en lisant ton poème. 🙂

    C’est tellement merveilleux chaque fois que vous postez quelque chose. Imaginez-vous écrire et vivre est une joie, ‘vieutilisée’.

    Salutations à travers l’univers.

    Liked by 2 people

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