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Kristine Bruneau

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Poetry for Grown Ups

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Little League Season
Flopping helmets on tiny players, striking out
Disappointed, yet determined
They spread upon the field
Chasing balls, kicking dirt, blowing bubbles
Parents cheer and clap
Wondering how many innings left
In this train wreck
The dog is hot and thirsty.

Cruising
Cruising summer-cracked roads
with Gunnar by my side.
Wind-rippled jowels flap
against crooked, white nubs
as whiskers shield debris.
He sneezes into dusk,
seeking familiar ground
on the road to nowhere.
A fixed reflection in
my moon-dappled mirror.

The Kiss
Four warm lips meet in kiss,
Then retreat, again they kiss,
Full and blush from the kiss,
Still lingering in kiss,
And when our lips meet in kiss,
Oh! Sweet passionate kiss,
Wanting still more to kiss,
Perfect lips with a kiss,
Loving more with each kiss.

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