KS Culbreth

Taste of the Kiss Illicit

When rain flowers down the bitter stem
and this long-awaited season
prematurely ends
for halt-numbed nerves and lost young whims
the petal tears its caressive wind

When morning shrieks its shrill birdsong
and the once-cuddling arms of brides
cradle adored burdens
when the birds and bees have flown and stung
warming dawn forewarns a day of burning

When that dream dims to glimmered shadows
and a lifetime seems to shade
the role of the soul,
life’s pulse cries forsaken, then disowns,
turns to the forbidden and makes faith whole

The bread of your lips, your tongue’s wine
thus tingle with fate’s holiness
the years I’ve laid waste;
in shared splendor I taste the one
who led me to this faith embraced

In town, the bronze mouth of Sunday’s bell,
whose cold lips and clapper’ve never kissed,
rings out, “Belong! Belong!”
This faith would not have us cease and desist;
here we share the kiss of blessed beings.