Ginkgo Biloba

June 25, 2007  |  poetry

The first time I kiss her, it is
June. Under a hazy lazy sky
the sun is yawning its descent.
Under the ginko tree that grows,

has been growing, outside her
apartment for decades, a hundred
years, more. How many lovers’
first kisses has she seen,
how many breakups, how many babies

pappoosed, welcomed to the world?
Green paper leaves the shape
of fans tossing the wild to the wind,
winding strings of silkworms around

tree trunks, slick bark the shade of
the sky before it rains. And her eyes
are the sky after. The pavement after.
My heart is red construction paper
that could blow away with another

exhale, if only her lips would come
close enough. Closer.

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1 Comment


  1. Hi –

    i enjoyed your response to lifelines at poetry thursday so much that i added you to my aggregator… and your work does not disappoint! i love the colors in this poem. you used one of my favorite words – slick – so onomatopoetic. And ‘tossing the wild to the wind’ – wow, great line, i had to read it five or six times before i felt that it had really settled in and been heard. that’s an image i will carry with me for a long time.

    peace.
    -sasha

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