I.
In the night, kiss the dark-haired man,
the stranger,
skin touched with sun, scent of green bottles
and soap.
Here in moon-grazed dream
he is an old friend,
long attraction,
a kiss cut short by guilt,
a pressing commitment.
II.
Make him rehearse.
Nothing too dry or engulfing,
the finishing seal on ceremony.
A triple touch of lips,
each word a slow motion
runaway train
to share
to remain—
a vow
until dust kisses dust.
III.
Wait in the courtyard at dusk.
Run a finger along the full lips.
Chiseled eyes droop tired, hard lines
shaped from rock,
coarse hair tucked in a twirl
beneath rusted orange.
Hold her carved mouth
to mouth—black and perfect
smooth, fashioned stone.
Natalie Young is a founding editor for the poetry magazine Sugar House Review. By day, she works as an art director for an ad agency based out of Salt Lake City. Recent publications include Green Mountains Review, Tampa Review, Rattle, South Dakota Review, Los Angeles Times, Tar River Poetry, and others. Natalie is left-handed, half Puerto Rican, and a fan of Tom Selleck and Swiss cheese.