by James J. Dye
(Dubuque, IA, USA)
A kiss hello.
A kiss goodbye.
She kisses death.
She kisses life.
She'll kiss on peace
and kiss-off war
like we all do yet
we're still there.
Her kismet is
to bandage with care;
repair broken things
like an angel there.
So she'll kiss nights
below the milky twilight
and she'll never fight
unless it is to save life.
So I want to kiss her
on the Kissime River's bridges
and everywhere.
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