Six Tercets on Kissing & Lump, poems published by Eleanor Wormwood

I kissed you so hard
cars crashed on the highway
near where we parked hotly.

I kissed you so long you thought
you received a lifetime sentence
and your lips would get no parole.

I kissed you so deeply I thought
I would never be free to kiss another
lightly, with no depth at all.

I kissed you so much
I forgot other kissing and kissers
This is not good, or is it?

Then I saw you kissing someone else
my tongue wanted to commit suicide
my lips thought homicide was more like it.

But then you came back and said
just shut up and kiss me
And I kissed you so hard ...

for Molly Ivins

I am the reluctant host.
You are in my left breast.
The doctor said “you have a lump.”
and it is like there is a gun
at my head with one bullet.

You are two centimeters
not visible except by
sonogram but palpable.
“You have a lump,” she said.
Shouldn’t something palpable be visible?

You need to change, maybe
to limp- I could handle
“you have a limp,”
or lamp, “you have a lamp.”
Let’s make a deal.
You can be the blue lamp
in the living room next to the blue couch.

Listen carefully.
I’m going to say something
a woman never wants to say to anyone.
I wish I’d never given birth to you.