Christmas Kiss

Christmas Kiss
On the eve
of our séance in the bedroom,
the glass of your heart
smashed against the wall
and refused to fit itself back together.
Each piece, one treasured kiss.

In the wake of your ire,
you scrambled across the floor,
recovered what dignity you could salvage
from discarded fragments,
then disappeared.
All sincerity vanished
with the Mini
as it lost itself in the cold darkness.

Every Eve since,
I have chased your kisses with abandon
through the abyss of your abandonment.
One had been concealed
in a birthday card neglected in a drawer.
Another lay forgotten
among the mistletoe of our secret garden.

I resurrected another
from the dead photograph
of a Paris evening under a glassy sky.
I have one left to find.
It lies under the flotsam of a peaceless heart
that yearns, wants to be salvaged.
Please, this Christmas,

one solitary kiss.