The Kissing Gate
Meet me where you whistled through the winds.
Remember the white flames cresting
turquoise eyed caps
seething over the wide bellied boat?
I stared into your open mouth
stretched wide into a distorted grimace;
a body shoved, hard and fast
between bone cold stone bricks,
a body washed,
slick and smooth, salt caressed skin
pressed, creased into the grains
birthed into the curve of the waist
of the sea;
Droplets of dawn kissed
its sunburnt bitter forehead
and dripped from plastered peeling hair,
rolling into the crevasses
of skin on skull, arrows shot
between two weathered lids.
The sunshine skimmed the lurching waters
and the seagull's mist cloaked
night's whispered departure
and your body never stopped
in the blooming waves,
your eyes never stopped
burning fire into my bones.
I meet you by the red painted gate,
withered flowers writhing around the bones
of rotting wood,
dry lipstick smears turned toward
deep throated rain
and you never stop coming,
you never stop coming to shore.
~ Janice Lee