War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

anniversary (2)

Jan 21, 2011

his kisses are rain, they are rain in the desert
rain, his kisses, a thousand precious drops caught, hands cupped,

rain saved, welled, stored in clay pots, hand thrown,
covered with cloth, covered against sandstorm, the devilled dust;

his kisses are pomegranate seed against lips, sweet
o sweet pomegranate seed they bleed sweetness perfect

ripe, the pomegranate cut open by a silvery knife
the bitter peel stripped, the cove of tart sweetness exposed;

his kisses are raven’s flight, the raven flying over us
its feathers oily against winter’s dusky white, the silent night

feather flight path from that whispered place, small of back
back of neck, eyelids, across the brow, the cheeks, my breasts

his kisses rain, a thousand kisses sweet seed sewn
one year since his Lieutenant died he doesn’t cry. he doesn’t cry.

he lives. his kisses
bullet pain.

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