Her face is full of angles and bones;
Our teeth click
In a tangle of tongue and lip;
Her eyes stare at my face,
Seeing nothing in particular
And certainly not me -
Yet her eyes a full of dumb
Adoration;
Her fingers
Touch my face and my lips,
Touch my face and my lips,
And she murmers,
Your lips are divine -
Divine!
And I wonder if it is always
This heavy-breathing comic book,
Tongue meeting tongue in a swirl of bacteria,
The drunken hour of midnight
Breathing nectar-flower language
Supported by the electrical passion of music -
And however I try
To gloss her hair and her lips,
To bring the conventions to my lips,
I can't shut out
The click, click, click
Of teeth and of numbers -
The computations and permutations
Of the bitter angel, Analysis,
The truthsayer who never sleeps.
elias neema
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-kiss-19/
