Lines on a kiss

Under the power station’s high ceiling white,

skin by quickening skin, we leaned into a Russian past

And in the blood hot heat the vapours of your perfume did

ignite,

And burned into my flesh and mouth and nose and taste,

And then free from the tyrant bare white hall

By the river, by the wind, in minute after minute

Drink made story, and made hours double and fold

And for an animal life your breath beat was within it.

I pace there still, beast and water and tide without end

Chasing phrase and word, pulse on pulse, blind on blind

And once and once and twice again

My invention brings your neck behind my hand

So I pledge a spell made words made belief

It is: your lips on tilted head mine will receive.

- RICK BENNETT