intending



the first kiss blazing our breaths--
snowflakes will turn to ash-flakes around us,
the motor reverberates from your car,
and our arms are belts around our waists.

snow flakes remain as ash around us,
it's hard to speak yet we swallow the nervousness,
our arms are belts around our waists
as the moon floats with echoes of the wind.

scared to speak yet we swallow the nervous bliss,
headlights stab our knees; silhouettes paint the gravel.
and while the moon floats with echoes of the wind,
we continue tasting the chapped contours of our lips—

headlights stab our knees; silhouettes paint the gravel,
and still our arms are belts around our waists.
to savor the chapped contours of our lips;
the last kiss can soften the warmth in our breath.



Mel Catalan