The role of a kiss is
to never swallow what it craves; not like
the heart, nothing breaks where it falls
though some one is left suspended until
another's mouth affixes. I don't believe in--
someone says and something ordinary
comes next, god, or premarital sex.
The earthworm, locking
its lips, takes in what it passes through. It
carves-- it craves-- it fillibusters
romance. I am troubled by belief: the
kiss repeats: see how it swallows and
where it lands and then the other body
bending so to catch it.
"Mattress" by Michele Glazer