And then I started to kiss
from nothing, out of nowhere, for
some kind of passing thrill like
eavesdropping or trying on a stranger’s
underwear, And you did it, too, everybody
did it, we could see them in the bushes, under
veils of leaves, exchanging small hollow oaths
then moving on. But I didn’t know
what a kiss could involve, what I could taste on
your tongue, the intimacies, your mother’s
cooking smells, the picked scabs of your childhood,
the warm coils of your intestines, the whispers
when the lights were out. And what you licked
of me, your tongue like a shelless
snail in my mouth carving out a home,
slipping under my door, peeling back
my lips like covers, lingering over
a pink crib and then pushing back
still further, into the womb
where I thought I could
be alone.