Kisses, Like Poetry


Kisses, like poetry,
Make nothing happen.
No one is fed,
Or saved;
Nor is the world made a whit more just,
Though we are often told love makes the world go round.
This is a lie, of course.
The world will go one spinning
After our last kiss.
What then is it?
A blind firing of neurons?
Genes groping for a life beyond us?
Or only this
Profitless,
Ironic tenderness.
How like a poem then.

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