KISS OR KISSES.

A MAN AND WOMAN AND KISSES

The kiss, Alber knows,

is the sign of great love

or great betrayal. Juliette

presses her lips to his.

 

There is spittle there

Somewhere, but neither

cares nor senses any of that.

 

In between kisses she talks

of the pregnant black cat.

 

He remembers his first kiss,

that girl whose mother never

trusted him as a boy, gave

him his first joy. Where had

it been? he asked inwardly,

pressing his lips to Juliette’s,

ah, yes, in the porch of her

parent’s house, the moon

bright, stars out like sprinkled

sugar on an expanded black cloth.

 

And about their heads that

darn moth. Juliette saying,

funny how they have such

low bellies, pregnant cats,

and have so many. He moves

his tongue inside her mouth,

along her teeth, touching her

tongue, exchanging warm fluids.

 

He presses his hands onto her

buttocks, feeling the softness

through cloth. She silent now,

and there about their heads,

that big brown fluttering moth.