I’ve often wondered if, over time, I’ve kissed every square
inch of your body. It troubles me to think that
there might be even the smallest portion of you my
lips have not honored. I imagine you giving off a
steady telltale glow, a sapphirine iridescence, anyplace my mouth has
come in contact with you, making it easier to isolate
and identify those minute segments that have suffered from my
unintended neglect. There: an unlit spot the size of an
eleven-point lowercase “o” between the third and fourth toes of
your left foot! Hungrily, gratefully, I lift your lustrous ankle.

BIO: Ralph Culver divides his time between Vermont and central Pennsylvania. His most recent poetry collection is A Passable Man (MadHat Press, 2021), available in bookstores and all the usual internet channels.