Lull

The atmosphere is quiet
between the damp
terrains of our faces.

The storms that raged
in the small space
between our lips,
the humid, charged breaths
that moved like gales
exploding from your mouth
to dive past the sentinels of my teeth
to stir me inside,
have calmed.

We sit facing each other
stagnant air around us
until a feeble breath
glides past my cheek
as if you were about to speak.

A. Popp
1995

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