Bob Dornberg © 2007 All Rights Reserved
Santo says needle and never.
I say I like kissing, I donít care what comes after.
Santo says that won't do.
Itís historyís small light-ship, the memory
of a first kiss, then first snowfall, then
first dark. The pond was iced over, the skaters
violent and flushed, the brooms
crusted with ice. There they also shout
Iím open, Man down.
Itís snowing. The mountains needle.
The winter breaks, breathes.
I like kissing, I donít care about after.
R. S. Armstrong is an artist and writer living in New York City. Work has previously appeared in the Beliot Poetry Journal and the Diagram.
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