Sunday, April 13, 2008


To the Boy I Kissed in Four States But Didn’t Marry

I remember you.
I remember Georgia
and Kentucky
and Tennessee.

Once, we loved each other
in Alabama
and I remember
it rained

and your arms
were stretched
above your head,
your whole body spread

out for me
like a sugar-shore.
This is the only
way back

to how many times
we’ve kissed
and where,
how every time

it was like
and sinking,
the two of us

like spun glass
from a string
and dancing.

I don’t remember now
all the reasons
you went your way
and I went mine.

But there are highways
I know
like I still know
every curve

of your lips
and mouth
and tongue,
and some days

I just get in my car
and drive.

- Irene Latham

“It's all right for a perfect stranger to kiss your hand as long as he's perfect.”

- Mae West

1 comment:

  1. Every Sunday I have a new favorite Irene Latham poem! You have a knack for sensuality in words. Love it.



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