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



Something Afoot


© Alwyn Marriage