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Monday, September 2, 2013

Kisses

Kisses for Seamus Heaney  and
another Irishman I love.
 
After Sleeping on the stairs of Notre Dame- wake stiff hipped from love,
before huddling under the Tour Eiffel break baguettes in the morning light,
 allow the crumbs to scatter like dandelion kites spreading sparks.
Put raspberries on fingertips - point as if they were wands, command them.
Moments snap past –
are they shooting stars or air support from Camp Pendleton?
Sounds of kissing before battle or passing daily gesture should be the same.
But they are not-
I make a digital image of your lips pressing upon mine.
“Baise-moi”
The French say when prone.
Holding the emotion in the circle of my palms.
I cuddle into your lean torso for safety. 
You’re a swan with a flickering of LED police lights.
Is that sand or bread crumbs in your bed?
A trick Aurora Borealis but just as magical.
Can we feed the birds the specs of joy?
Embrace me as if it is our last moment.

 


poem copyright Caroline Gerardo
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