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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