. . . For Eternity
If kisses were less mortal and could last
As long as death, your lips would lead to realms
Inhabited by gods—and even past
Nirvanas, since your hot mouth overwhelms
Awed intimations of that tongueless void,
Negating it repeatedly with lust.
Displacing threnodies with overjoyed
Paeans, such kisses would produce a must
Hormonal in its essence, but with need
Implied, with fragrant fate involved—beyond
Luxuriating choice, where rut and seed,
Love bite and bliss and blood all correspond.
If kisses were immortal and could rhyme,
Poets would kiss you, and abandon time . . .
Just in Time
Precisely, dear, because immortal things
Have scant connection with our kisses, we
Intuit that the mouth, obsessive, clings
Like starved Achilles did, futilely
Lamenting his dead friend. Lips cling to lips
Impassioned in their fast-kindled desires,
Portending what the genitals and hips
Acclaim—that tongues of flame (consuming fires)
Never pale in contrast with forever,
Despite its charms. Precisely, dear, because
I love your tongue acting as a lever
Amongst my hungry teeth, I gasp a pause
In time and spit eternity away
Now, tasting of your kisses, just today.