The Kiss (Stephen Dunn)

Valentine's Day is in less than two weeks. But, ya know, since it's Groundhog's Day tomorrow, this poem by Stephen Dunn, which begins with a typo, is most apt. (Apt in the Billy Murray-movie way, that is.)

It is near-impossible to write about something as common as a kiss without filling with treacle or cliche. But, darn it, Mr. Dunn does it. There's not a line of cliche in this poem. Not a line that is trying to subvert what a kiss normally is or means. The poem is romantic. Sweetly so. I mean, the whole thing ends in wedded bliss.

I think it avoids treacle by remaining firmly on the ground. Everything is rooted in something that is real. The language is real; the phrasing sounds like someone I know might say those very lines. The repetition of 'kiss' and of the 's' sound help to root the poem in place - keep it centered on what the whole thing is about - that which is the only thing that N can consider.

Favorite line: "She kissed me again, reaching that place/that sends messages to toes and fingertips,/then all the way to something like home."