Kiss I want to build a bridge between your breath and mine. This kiss is the first stone, a smoldering hummingbird eager to lift you from the earth. A bribe for your border guards, who stamp my passport by tasting it. They escort me to the labyrinth of your body. I begin to unwind a ball of string. I pull away. A blue sash of saxophone notes fades the multitude of stars, and you long to hunt down the reddest lipstick you can find.
Beeper Peddle is a writer and healer living on the East Coast. She lives with her partner and their beloved soul puppy. Beeper writes about sorrows, lies, and deep loves. When you read her work, you will dip down into her heart and end up in all manner of body parts. Should you find yourself reflected in these words, it is merely coincidence; however, it does not surprise her you share the same heart. Find her at bethpeddle.com and @beeperpeddle on Twitter and Instagram
Joshua Gage is an ornery curmudgeon from Cleveland. His newest chapbook, blips on a screen, is available on Cuttlefish Books. He is a graduate of the Low Residency MFA Program in Creative Writing at Naropa University. He has a penchant for Pendleton shirts, Ethiopian coffee, and any poem strong enough to yank the breath out of his lungs.