Marla Rocheleau
Afterwards,
when the color had faded from my lips,
exhilaration
and shame
burst through in a flood.
A powerful wave that knocked me breathless,
exhausted,
and left
with only the lingering taste of salt
tingling my lips.
I had become the Cheshire Cat
mysterious sly coming
into myself
one stripe at a time,
yet I disappeared all at once.
When I have gone, my smile remains
hanging in the air,
waiting.
Water
Ione Citrin