She kisses him.
She kisses the tips
of his fingers,
where words
hang
like a fruit
to work
in her mouth
She kisses the sail
of his chest,
and a surge
from below
tugs at the line
with a
skip of the
beat
She kisses the notch
of his neck,
where a violence
of breath
and blood
pushes against
the bud
of her
tongue
She kisses the flesh
of his ear,
sucks on his name—
it's her favorite
song,
she plays it
again
She kisses the lid
of his eye,
so that her heat
might sink—
like a stone
kissing water,
before its
dark plunge—
deep into
dreams
She kisses his
She
He kisses her lips—
she gives them
up—
so ripe
and wet
and heavy
with love
9 comments:
Is it hot in here, or is it just me?
I so admire you for being free enough to write like this. I could not do it. No only could I not post it but I also could not produce this sort of description that takes the reader there - makes the lovemaking immediate.
I read somewhere yesterday that poetry differs from prose in that it becomes personal to the reader regardless of intent of the writer - that even if the writing is "misinterpreted" in terms of the writer's own experience, it becomes the reader's experience as it is filtered through the her eyes. I think this only happens in good writing - writing that feels so natural that a reader is absorbed in it, able to experience it on a visceral level. That's the way I feel when I read your work. Always.
Bard, it's a little warm, if never warm enough. :) Thank you.
Karen, I had to go back and change a stanza. I was being more explicit than I intended to be (yes, I'm often oblivious, even to my own stuff). Then I re-read it and thought...ohhh, right. :) There's a thin, but critical line with metaphors! Especially in pieces like this.
Anyway, I love what you shared in your reading. I do think poetry saturates us in feeling like prose can't. Coming from you, that kind of immersion experience means so much. Thank you, Karen.
For some reason this poem feels incredibly personal to me. ;-) I just want to bathe in these words and drink them in like the seductive elixir that they are. I love you Sarah Hina. You just keep letting that inner Puck out, it's SPRING!
wow. i need a drink of water after this one.
like karen said, it's so immediate - and the break before the last stanza - like that moment when your brain just kind of stops and your body takes over - this is poetry without skin.
Cat, I'm happy this one hit you at just the right time. :) Please, bathe away! The water's warm and sweet. If also a little intoxicating.
Joaquin, I'm glad you liked that break. Sometimes, those formatting experiments work...and sometimes they don't. But you got my intent entirely. :)
"poetry without skin"--that's beautiful. Thank you.
Hey hey.. you changed the mood altogether :) So passionate!
I'll need more than just a glass of water to cool off!
You should put a disclaimer to such posts: DO NOT read when you have company, especially company you can not make out with after reading. :P
"like a stone
kissing water,
before its
dark plunge"
Loved loved loved this comparison. It does feel that the stone kinda stays there on top just for a fraction of a second before it sinks, isn't it?
Tamarind~, yes, that was a bit of a whiplash, wasn't it? :) Thanks so much.
Aniket, it can, indeed. :) And it's amazing how just the thought of it can recreate the feeling so closely, too.
Go take a cold shower. Or not. Sometimes, a little torture is sweet, am I right? :P
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