The Kiss

How many years I must have yearned
for someone's lips against mind.
Pheromones, newly born, were floating
between us. There was hardly any air.

She kissed me again, reaching that place
that sends messages to toes and fingertips,
then all the way to something like home.
Some music was playing on its own.

Nothing like a woman who knows
to kiss the right thing at the right time,
then kisses the things she's missed.
How had I ever settled for less?

I was thinking this is intelligence,
this is the wisest tongue
since the Oracle got into a Greek's ear,
speaking sense. It's the Good,

defining itself. I was out of my mind.
She was in. We married as soon as we could.

by Stephen Dunn

Comments (10)

Rose on the Midnight Flight to Boston is a beautiful poem.
A nicely structured narrative poem. Sylva.
Wonderful but tragic poem touch the heart Anne. Congrats for being member of the day Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
This is a fantastic poem, very poignant and tragic, and deserves a much higher rating than it has so far, a measly 2.7 out of five. Anne Sexton., if she were still alive and in control of her poet page, would delete all the scores and make us start over.
Very nice. Enjoyed. Thanks for sharing.
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