To Kiss A Poet

 

To Kiss A Poet

Years after we lunch, I’ll write a poem
about the spark in your eye when the omelet,
heavy with thyme,
touched your tongue, the hang of a single drop
of wine, leggy,
weighted, waiting to
fall from your lip.

Walk with me, the rhythm of your gait
swings into shadow
perambulating
until your hips
and mine find a metered dance,
our feet.

Lean in, hear our beats,
syncopated, twitterpated, rhymed.
Juniper and smoke on your skin,
whiskey fingers and leather:
I’ll remember.

This kissing booth is a bank,
deposit yours:
I’ve a ring full of keys
and boxes to open.


Na/GloPoWriMo Day Twenty-Eight:  write a poem about poetry.

5 thoughts on “To Kiss A Poet

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