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1 poem
Catherine Ragsdale

Catherine Ragsdale is a Texan writer living in Baltimore. You can find her at or in your kitchen brewing tea.


no not between sheets

a newspaper on a bench

not by the sea no I cry

in the stairwell and don’t

kiss the stonewall the line

on the card where I sign

my name not the scar on

his chin no not the girl down

the street though I sleep

in her bed no not

even god his tongue is too

holy it would go straight

down my throat a wafer

not my own teeth

my lips do not touch I bare


                once while on

vacation I put my foot

up on a bench to tie

my shoelaces I leaned

down and by accident

my cupids bow struck

my knee made a sound

like an old bell thudding

glasses clinking in cheers

and when they read

the stories about first

kisses I cry because

I have none left to

give forgive me no

I did not mean it


yes spoons and pots

the corner of the room

each spider that had

strung its web using the

walls as their support sure

the raised letters on books

too sometimes I swallow

the pages yes I read them

aloud to the girl down

the street I burp them

onto his pelvic bone he

laughs and then says yes

god sometimes you bite

but it still counts as kissing

because it does not


              once while on

the phone I forgot to be

kissing and wrote down

a message in a bottle

and by accident said it

instead down by the sea

I love you like the waves

aren’t mouths or his

ears arms and abdomen

quickly I pressed my lips

against each other to

shut up stopper cork it

please I have more to

give forgive me yes

I did not mean it

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