Have you Miss tried an Italian kiss he asked
as she leisurely passed by his stall
this he said with spring,
like dough bouncing after yeast is added
later spun high in a pizzeria
she thought his words asked for embracing
should they suddenly go
or should she slip out of sight
her visiting, non-European shyness
pushing her instinctively to hide
tortoise-like, she was starting to stand out
She knew in this moment in time
calle of discovery
Venetian peach, amethyst lanterns
shone inside her, opening her up
red as the rose
white as the lily
green as sea grass
Fairytales can be real she thought
dance in her was stirring
settling her flight
St Mark's Basilica projected
musical angels
Under the winged lion
that day near the bridge
it's now or never
this doesn't happen every day
No, she replied in her Australian accent
Still curious, shy as a child
to avoid the feeling, she focused on the elderly vendor's
features — his
azure Murano eyes
against his tanned lined visage
skin as soft as baby cow leather
leather you want to touch
hands with gold freckles
lips cracked but plump
Without further ado
the mature Venetian gent
cupped his hands beneath her egg-chin
holding her heart-face in his hands
careful not to drop her
He then brushed aside some of her stray brown hair
Daintily, as a woman would another woman
His touch felt silken
smooth were his movements, unfaltering
so, as to not mark her skin with his unclipped fingernails
nor crack her shell, or move her away, this girl is to stay
The Italian proceeded to move in with silence
His eyelash touched her cheek first, then his lips
Only one with an expert heart could get it this right
She thought to herself
As he kissed the right, then left
cheek
Pressing his fig-lips
precisely in the right place,
exact and difficult to replicate by others
but more interesting
was the intense burn they possessed
a light for Italy was forever lit
by this newness of touch, newness of place
She savoured the moment so that it could be placed in memory
Later to be recalled, like the scent of Limoncello
Ragu Napolitano
Dolcetto
Tiramisu
Creamy Ricotta
Pistachio gelati
Italian's she now knew, by design
have more fun
they kiss for peace too
as Peter and Paul do
in a sixteenth century painting
She felt her heart glow, red green and white
and thanked the special vendor of 'bacio'
for her first, only
Italian Kiss
Meg Dolan self published the collection Story: Reflective Poetry, and her poems have also appeared in the Tipton Poetry Journal, the Sunflower Collective, ditch, Lifelines and Naturewriting. Meg worked formerly as a psychotherapist, however due to a rare illness has taken a new path. Her new collection Royal will be out later this year.