three thousand lost kisses by Andrés Montoya

the night swoons
to the hip-hop
of gunshots
and stars.
a young woman’s teeth
about sorrow’s suitcase
of explanations
and i am learning to hope
like a bird
its first
with wind
and sun
like an orange
to take flight
into the mouth
of a boy
in summer.
the trees are prophesying.
the mountains are waiting
for the long trek to the sea
and the sea
like a lover
anticipating the kiss
of three thousand
lost kisses.
the night swoons
and the trees
begin their blue-black
in the wind.

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