A poem by Len Kuntz

Your swift kiss tastes a lot like prohibition.
My pincushion eyes have a hard time centering on
your hockey puck pupils.
But now you are laughing
like a drunk hyena.
Someone somewhere has said something hilarious
or maybe you’re just remembering.
I want to be your skin for a week,
go shopping where you shop,
work with you at your place of employment,
touch the people you touch,
the lover who knows how to
make you laugh like that.
Especially him.

Len Kuntz is a writer from Washington state, an editor at the online magazine Literary Orphans, and the author of I’m Not Supposed To Be Here and Neither Are You, available from Unknown Press. Check out his website


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