Palettal Prose: Communicable

Would you kiss me

if I told you I am infected

with an extreme case

of joy,

contagious with a full-body rash

of rep leaping praise,

the kind that oozes,

embarrassingly, into giggles

while waiting in long grocery store lines,

that kind that breaks out

into song

when standing in a crowded, silent room.

This is no time for tight-lipped tidiness,

no time for tongues wearing white-laced gloves.

Why not? Because it’s Tuesday.

Because I smell spring gathering in the air.

Because tonight the moon rises

and I am contagious

and these lips

are ready

to kiss.

~Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer


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