J.O. Morgan
[‘ Who kissed me? ’]
[‘ Who kissed me? ’]
‘ Who kissed me? ’
His voice, drowned in laughter.
His question, chopped up
by the screen’s silver flicker;
the jangle piano’s tensive trills.
‘ Who kissed me? ’
Spoken this time with authority
so none may fail to take note;
and a silence spreads outward
from the centre that’s him, as quick
as an oil drop spreads over water
into an disc just one atom thick.
‘ No one kissed you, your Highness;
your guard is complete on all sides. ’
The chatter of the projector, spun to a stop.
The house-lights: blinked on row by row.
‘ I felt it. Here.
On my neck.
I felt love
flowing out of me. ’
His fingertip: touching his nape.
The bodyguards whisper. They fidget.
An usherette; shunted forward.
Her flashlight clutched tight in both hands.
‘ I live alone. I wanted
to know how it would feel
to offer one’s touch without asking
for any such thing in return. ’
The king looks her over.
The downward twitch of her lips.
Her low-lidded eyes.
‘ Sit there for the rest of the show. ’
Indicating the seat just behind him.
‘ And when you think
I may least expect it:
kiss me again. ’