Poetry: Feasting

Feast­ing
–Eliz­a­beth W. Garber
From Pierced by the Seasons

I am so amazed to find myself kiss­ing you
with such abandon,
fill­ing myself with our kisses
astound­ing hunger for edges of lips and tongue.
Return­ing to feast again and again,
our bel­lies nev­er over­fill­ing from this banquet.
Return­ing in surprise,
in remembering,
in rediscovering,
such play of fla­vors of glid­ing lips
and forests of pres­sures and spaces.
The spaces between the branches
as deli­cious as find­ing the grove of lilies of the valley
blos­som­ing just out­side my door under the ancient oak.
“I’ve nev­er held any­one this long,” you said,
the sec­ond time you entered my kitchen.
I am the feast this kitchen was blessed to prepare
wait­ing for you to enter open mouthed in awe
in the mys­tery we’ve been given,
our holy feast.