Poems (Forrest)/The kiss
For works with similar titles, see The kiss.
THE KISS
As purposeless as wind-blown leaves we kissedAnd felt the fusion of the centuries.Whence did it come, that whiff of orris root?The clatter of a rapier to the floor?The brush of lace against my pulsing throatWhere your arm pressed the riot of my bloodBack to my heart? Behind you seemed to growA chest with dragon feet inlaid with pearl,A couch, with fleur-de-lis in rusted goldUpon a pattern delicate in silk,And oval mirrors thick with cloudy giltIn fruits and Cupids. I could see your eyesBlue as the sea; and yet they did not smile.But I could feel your lips hot as the sunOn apple orchards feeding on my mouth.You named me queen; yet, looking down, I sawBare feet in wooden sabots and I knewThose feet were mine, broad, toil-hard, peasant-bredThat trod too close to earth to know the easeOf carriage cushions and the 'broidered stoolMilady sets her satin shoon upon.Reflected in the floor I saw the heelsOf your court slippers. They were poppy-red;And diamond garters clipt your hose aboveThe finer curving of your supple limbs.And all the while your eyes were blue and cold! Muffled beyond the heavy silk-hung walls,I heard a chiming bell—or did it tollThe passing of life forfeited? There seemedA monkish chanting and the drowsy scentOf incense swung in censers o'er a vault—All strange to me who only knew the smellOf hot milk spurting in a wooden pail,The reek of kine, the sweet, wet breath of grassAnd hawthorn hedges. On my clumsy shoesI saw faint stains of fields and outdoor things.Your red heels mocked them in their foppish grace,As o'er the beating of responsive heartsYour blue eyes mocked me with your mouth on mine.
Two modern people under God's bright stars,Above the city, where the jangling tramsGo grating down the blocks, where brass bands blareAnd flags proclaim our town makes holiday;And that street singer, who has lost an armSomewhere in France, shouts an old marching songAll out of tune! Two people who have soughtRefuge in this roof-garden high aboveThe grimy chimneys where electric signsFire all the pale horizons; and there comesFrom that dark corner the ripe pungencyOf Mocha coffee! Or a mild cigarSuggests a lonely soul's philosophy!We, parrying serious things, struck mental sparks,Foiling each other with intention, tillA moment's silence forced the secret bar.I looked up, you looked down; and so we kissed!
It should have been a trifle to forget;Yet came that fusion of the centuriesRushing together. Did three hundred yearsGive back a lost kiss that my blood still holds—A kiss perhaps with Death the other side!