Kiss of Blood

I cursed the bloody Yankees
who took wealth away
from the poor,
self-confidently selfish
subdueing the whole planet
with flags of golden arches.

How much did I prefer
the touch of your young kiss,
your lips opening to me
like a fresh red fruit
generously offering itself
which filled me with such passion
that I took a tiny bite.

A drop of blood
appeared,
making your mouth so beautiful
and even more desirable.

In that moment I understood
that the map of my body
the maze of my mind
were captured,
conquered, bestrode
by a flag
which was only the symbol
of that bloody young kiss
which I still bless today.

[back to poems]