I like your
curled beneath me
smooth legs and outside
wind pushing trees against the house
of your mouth

I brush my lips
where the window meets the leaf
each separate nerve
grows a bud














(published on Big City Lit web site—The Art of the Kiss
http://www.nycbigcitylit.com/contents/PoetryTheKiss.html )

With such a small mouth,
you must fear the kiss,
and men who engulf you.

Yet you beckon
from your conch, and its pink
descending path.

Love for you has majesty
of the ocean’s tall swells
and gnashing breakers.

The voice in the tide
caresses your foot
then crests you by surprise.

What a small thing
your innocence rides
out on the waves.






(published on Big City Lit web site—The Art of the Kiss
http://www.nycbigcitylit.com/contents/PoetryTheKiss.html )