Kiss

“Face” — watercolor by Laura Ross. Used with permission.

On the other side of the hill
I found the Queen Anne’s Lace
as it swayed in the dying wind

and the grass was matted still
from yesterday’s embrace.

But now
the perversity of his grin,
your unbent pregnant will
contaminate this place.

All that we might have been
betrayed again, the shrill

laughter, eyes that brace
on mine, a kiss starting to spin

collapse
on the reddened hill
at the memory of your face.

(If you liked this poem, you can find more of my poetry here.)