Howard Firkin
She tips her head back when we kiss: it’s Pez.
Dispensing sweetness through my mouth she says,
"I love the way you kiss; I love your lips."
My mouth is filled with sugar warmth; she slips
her honey tongue into my mouth; it’s nectar,
it’s blossom; it’s a sudden shaft of light,
a dizziness, a need to hold on tight;
it’s sea spray from the bow wave; it’s the sting
of salt on skin, a transitory thing,
a butterfly, a butterfly collector.
I hear the fizzing in my head: it’s Pez;
it’s ice cream soda in a short glass—easy,
take it slow! She kisses me and says,
your ’thank you’ sounds like someone saying ’please me’.
Dispensing sweetness through my mouth she says,
"I love the way you kiss; I love your lips."
My mouth is filled with sugar warmth; she slips
her honey tongue into my mouth; it’s nectar,
it’s blossom; it’s a sudden shaft of light,
a dizziness, a need to hold on tight;
it’s sea spray from the bow wave; it’s the sting
of salt on skin, a transitory thing,
a butterfly, a butterfly collector.
I hear the fizzing in my head: it’s Pez;
it’s ice cream soda in a short glass—easy,
take it slow! She kisses me and says,
your ’thank you’ sounds like someone saying ’please me’.