Dangerous Kisses

Our hands like singing volcanoes
You reached for Milton
I read Steinbeck
Freedom needs a vase with a rose
Mournful islands drenched in fog
We finally see we are wild circles
Let the mountains cry fire

The sea cools the hot lava
Visions of blue towers
Religion of romance
Waves of stars
Waves of new coral
Red and black kisses
Yellow and purple fish
Creation sires ancient lovers
Orange red rivers
We are flames in the rocks
Volcanoes of changing eternity

She kisses me
Molten rivers of dangerous kisses

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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