Poem 350 ± May 19, 2016

Bree LeMaire
He Kissed Me

We were saying good-by and he kissed me
Not just a brush against my cheek, but
On my lips.
Did he feel me flinch?
Expect It?
Was there fear or revulsion?
My mind went to other places,
Blood, body fluids.
Was there saliva,
Is it still there?
He spoke with anger, being invisible,
Not enough food or cash
And confronted me, the establishment
On my lips.
He knew his target.
I offered platitudes,
A half-hearted hug,
Something like, “Buck-up,”
Never wanted a kiss,
On my lips.


Bree LeMaireBree LeMaire worked as an AIDS research nurse for ten years. Her work has appeared in The Sun, Nurse Week, The San Francisco Chronicle, The Optimist: An AIDS Project Los Angeles Publication, and the Inspector Newspaper. Bree lives in San Francisco.

This poem is not previously published.