Randomly, Poetry

[beckyh2112]

The Tenth Kiss

Kisses that stir my soul have no categories.
I love the wet kissing of your wet lips
but the friction of your dry little mouthing makes
smoke in my very bones, a fluid fire.
To press my lips on fluttering eyes is sweet
revenge for the torment of those butterfly kisses.
I love to lie all over you, to kiss it
all, cheeks and shoulders and neck and snowy
valleys and leave my signatures in the snow,
blue on the white dazzle of hills and valleys,
or suck with moaning mouth the tremulous tongue
that licks my own, our souls diffusing into
the strangeness of each other's flesh, soul-kissing
while love lies limp and dying of ecstasy.
Short or long or tense or loose these kisses
take me, my love, whether I'm the giver or you;
but don't let yours simply echo mine, let's play
variations for diverse instruments
and the first who fails to vary the melody
agree with shamestruck eyes to give the winner
a solo performance of all the lyrical kisses
that have come before. With all the variations.

-- Joannes Secundus, translated from the Latin