Furious Kisses

(first draft)

A space has opened; not
a wound – but a field

of wheat, yellow ocean,
golden sea – our bodies a ship.

In the distance three red flags
beat wildly in the wind.

Our furious kisses become
two white sails pushing us on.

When we love –
King David writes another psalm

and King Solomon
another song, while we collect certain

tendernesses from each other eyes
– like rations for a long journey,

for all the severe days, that will follow

and for the journey to the innocent
cities that we dream, that we have

drawn gently on each other’s
bruised bodies.



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