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Likestarlings is a place for talking in poems. We pair poets with poets and they write a sequence of six new works by responding in turn to one another. Our palaver blog goes beyond poetry to discuss collaboration in theory and in practice. Please take a look, and feel free to add comments, opinions and suggestions here. Read poems here
 

Kiss

 

You kissed me by the washing machine

on the lips. It was our first time.

I pushed the dial on the wrong setting

in the rush to kiss you back.

 

For the rest of the evening it chuntered

and spluttered through spin cycles.

The house smelled like washing lines,

everything tasted of suds.

 

That night you came to my room

and kissed me again. Your heart swam.

In the space between our kisses

I heard it grumbling with the cellar.