Ted Kooser. Photo credit: UNL Publications and Photography. Here's a poem about something that each of us receives, though only once. If you didn't get yours written into a poem, you've got it put away somewhere.
Wyatt Townley lives in Kansas, and "First Kiss" is from her new book, “Rewriting the Body,” from Stephen F. Austin State University Press.
First Kiss
Here you are forty years later in a white coat examining my ears.
All I can think is how your tongue once turned in the tunnel
you're peering into. The fault is not in my ears, but between them!
No one can see that far. But could we gaze back through the years and dead stars
to the doorstep of my parents' house, you bending down with your tall mouth to make the softest landing on mine,
having thrown off my balance so tenderly, can you explain, good Doctor, how to regain it?
Ted Kooser. Photo credit: UNL Publications and Photography. Here's a poem about something that each of us receives, though only once. If you didn't get yours written into a poem, you've got it put away somewhere.
Wyatt Townley lives in Kansas, and "First Kiss" is from her new book, “Rewriting the Body,” from Stephen F. Austin State University Press.
First Kiss
Here you are forty years later in a white coat examining my ears.
All I can think is how your tongue once turned in the tunnel
you're peering into. The fault is not in my ears, but between them!
No one can see that far. But could we gaze back through the years and dead stars
to the doorstep of my parents' house, you bending down with your tall mouth to make the softest landing on mine,
having thrown off my balance so tenderly, can you explain, good Doctor, how to regain it?