NaPoWriMo 5

Kissing at 40


When I kiss you now, at 40,
I savor everything:
lip, tongue, teeth. I kiss
and no air escapes. Nothing.
I take it all and take it in.
Our breath stops and starts
rises and falls in our gorging,
our coming back. Salt on the lips
salt on the skin,
my mouth waters
at the thought of it.
Something inside
wants to get out—
a love-growl, an engine
turning over and over
in the dark,
ready to drive us
anywhere we want to go.