Kiss
Klimpt and Rodin tangled with it,
limbs entwined, the ache of longing
not yet satisfied.
Young and shy, we shared our first,
which set the scene for all these years
of thrilling shuddering deep inside:
when parting, meeting, thanking, greeting,
time melting into one long kiss
as lives became more deeply intertwined;
lips with which, in which, through which
we shared the heat of passion
and the common cold.
Lips are made for kissing, yet in the deeper probing
soon get left out as tongues take over, search
the innermost recesses, reach for the unseen.
Our lips form different shapes for luscious lover, milky mother,
comforting flavour of kiss-it-better, long lost friend
recovered: all were treasured. Then there was another –
we never kissed, well, other than
pecks on the cheek that though so chaste
could set our skin alight.
The taste has passed, but still the touch
of other human bodies lingers in the traces
all these kisses left imprinted in lips’ memory.
© Alwyn Marriage
© Alwyn Marriage
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