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first kiss

This tale relaxes to a soundtrack –
Bach’s solo cello, G-major.
The sound and feel of your kiss – the surprise and magnificence of it
~~ the poetry in the moment.
Cousin spins near lover and soon we two entwined,
hidden from the day in this safe room
where we share of honey from same spoon
silver and perfect, it is engraved in script with one word and that is
We never question why or talk about it. It just fits somehow.
Days are blue, the sky is blue, the night sky cerulean.
Only dogs are mad, you tell me. I am a beast, you say.
Months I disagree until I see that film by Cocteau and then I realize
you are, you tell me, an animal, savage and wild.
Should beauty indulge under the beast?
Allow herself to be taken by him.
One loving look and he becomes you.
You are the beast, me the half-beauty.
I remember that first kiss.
I was thirteen, you eighteen, and we stood at sundown
as the last of the beachgoers packed up their things,
the cliff regarding them informally.
I knew it would be – me and my infantile dilemma.
Should I, could I, would I?
And then you did and I did and so it was and there we were,
two cousins kissing beneath the slope of the sky
as the stars winked silver and a thumbnail moon appeared in the mauve sky.
That was the first time.

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