Kiss

I want to kiss her after kissing her,
and before, and while kissing her,
I am touched with the urge
to kiss her again:
I fear all this kissing will crack my lips open
and I will spill words onto her tongue:
beautiful words
like “You are the water and jug
and I thirst and I thirst”
but first I will kiss her and spill
herds of sweet words
over the hills of our mouths,
beautiful words
like “You are the smoke and the salt,
preserve me, preserve me,”
so she will kiss me and kiss me,
and this — see? — this isn’t free,
it’s bartered from me
with the moist of her lips,
the clip of her tongue as it slips
into me,
an offer of moisture
for the roots of my tree,
for the tangling roots entangling me
And I want to kiss her after kissing her,
and before, and while kissing her,
I am touched with the urge to kiss her again.

This poem © Gabriel Gadfly. Published August 2nd, 2009.