poetry

eskimom kisses

The first time was strange as most first times go...

The first time was strangest—
        As most first times go—
        When my mother became an Eskimo
    And kissed me as they do, she said,
        Where homes are built of snow,
  And penguins besiege your bed.

It’s forbiddenly cold,
        She went with a smile,
        To use the lips in the usual style;
    They would stick in such a weather,
        Too much the tundra-trial
  For two to face together.

They use their sniffer,
        In the safer stead,
        To forgo the ends of said lip-locked dread;
    Love is shared on the touch of nose—
        Add a slight shake of head
  And wing-off the further woes.

From time-to-sublime since,
        I’ve had near-misses
        With loving lips for my nose’s wishes:
    I’d lean into a heartthrob’s face
        All Eskimom kisses
  Before I’d recall my place.


Previous Post:
    Music: On Jovian Clouds
        https://windstrewn.com/2018/04/09/on-jovian-clouds-2/


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