she wiped my kiss from the back of her hand
as though I could not see
I do not understand
her face said
I thought
kiss
a tigerish smile
a tigerish smile played
like a butterfly on her lips
blowing a kiss to tomorrow
You touched
You touched your cheek to mine
your skin
your mask
my mask
my skin
My heart fluttered
hold on
last night I dreamt you kissed me on the cheek
hold on
I need to know if this might be true
A kiss on the cheek
A kiss on the cheek from my now ex-best friend.
A kiss on the lips from my now ex-lover.
A kiss in the air from an innocent bystander.
A kiss on my fingertips as I wave them goodbye.
John and Jane
Every time she stood near him, time curved. Space warmed. Air thinned.
“Look, Jane, look! A spot on the sun!”
“Don’t stare at the sun, John.”
“Are we going to be happy, Jane?”
“Wait for me to kiss you.”
Air thinned still further.
Swing
I push you gently
firmly
and you swing out from the edge.
You are floral against the blue beyond the cliff
and
after a moment
of suspension
of disbelief
swing back.
I catch you firmly
gently
and wrap my arms around your waist.
I kiss your neck and you half-twist.
Your dress is thin cotton in the temperate sun.
I push you again
and again
you swing out
toes pointed
legs straight out from the worn wooden seat.
The rope knots squeak
the tree imagined on the edge of the drop.
You swing out above the clouds
out
back
out
back
my hands on your shoulders
each time you return.
Again I hold on to your waist
and we swing out
above the emptiness
my feet hang down
cutting through clouded air.
Your back is warm through the cotton
my arms are tight.
We swing together
the sun to our side
soft clouds below.
And then we are back on the grass
and you turn
and look in my eyes
and I raise my eyebrows
and you nod
and I nod
and I walk backwards
holding you firm
until I am standing on tiptoes
and then I run forward
and as we swing out
out
up and out
and I am not sure how
but you let go of the swing and
we are
falling
falling
falling
through the soft warm air.
We fall
and we fall
and I do not know why
but I am not afraid of the height or the falling
and you are with me
and I am with you
and you smile and I smile.
Sam’s tattoo
Sam tattooed the shape of her kiss on his bicep. Now, through the red-ragged rage and mist of loss, he could look down, and flex, and smile.
Don’t gently touch my hair
Don’t gently touch my hair while I am sleeping. Please don’t blow sweet kisses on the hairline of my neck. You don’t sleep here any more now, do you? No. I feel the draught from the summer-open window. Please don’t breathe the words I cannot hear.
Hangover cure
Salt strength
Honey kisses
Sleep in slanting morning sunshine.
Or so I’ve heard.
I don’t get hangovers.