The latest poetic installment

Needs some re-working (I'll post the revision later) ....

SWAK

From outside a circle where bottles
spun swiftly to heaven and seven
seemed longer than history lessons,
we secretly scripted the names of our
Cheeto-breathed crushes on roofs
of our mouths or the tops of retainers.

The frightened contestants bumped
Eskimo noses as passion-red spread
like a pinch (recall all the love words
relating to pain: to fall for, whipped, a crush).

Then later on, punch does the same
to bring heat to our faces
so we make like the Frenchies,
twist tongues round each other,
blow farewells with fingertips
touched to our lips, or double-up
Europe-style – kiss kiss, kiss kiss.

We steal techniques from alien species:
fish who pucker like sour-faced suckers,
the suckling newborn,
the flutter of butterfly wings on each other.
We pull in cheeks and bat our eyelashes
to tempt fishy lips and fleeting back-glances.

Embraces like Rodin’s or Klimt’s
remain entangled forever,
less messy than morning breath
or lips split from a bite,
but the two frozen lovers miss out
on the last, the dark angel’s
pallor-lipped, instant goodnight.