The Kiss

 My mouth blooms like a cut.

I've been wronged all year, tedious
nights, nothing but rough elbows in them
and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
crybaby , you fool!

Before today my body was useless.

Now it's tearing at its square corners.

It's tearing old Mary's garments off, knot by knot
and see -- Now it's shot full of these electric bolts.

Zing! A resurrection!

Once it was a boat, quite wooden
and with no business, no salt water under it
and in need of some paint.
 It was no more
than a group of boards.
 But you hoisted her, rigged her.

She's been elected.


My nerves are turned on.
 I hear them like
musical instruments.
 Where there was silence
the drums, the strings are incurably playing.
 You did this.

Pure genius at work.
 Darling, the composer has stepped
into fire.

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