I am called an incurable romantic and I am glad I am not the only one!

Lovely sensuality. My favorite part:

We were all watching--
passengers waiting for the delayed flight
to San Jose, the stewardesses, the pilots,
the aproned woman icing Cinnabons, the man selling
sunglasses. We couldn't look away. We could
taste the kisses crushed in our mouths.

The poem goes to prove that passion and love have no barriers.

I think I related because I like that it makes people realize that you don't go dead as you get older. The hub and I are still going pretty strong at 74 and 81. Love doesn't care if you get fat or grey.

My guess is that EB saw a couple like this in the airport, and extrapolated from there.

Actually, I'd like to believe things like "that" do happen as well. I've seen older people holding hands when I go for long walks in my neighborhood. And, if we can imagine it we can create it, but it still takes two people to fully commplete a meaningful relationship and it just seems rare, as I too am in my middle age and drawing conclusions from my own life, thus far.

Perhaps, this is why I like the poem so much; even if it's rare it's still out there, and that's why despite my own life, the poem strongly pulled out feelings of, truth, as I read the poem for the first time.

I know. I think that's part of the charm of the poem. I love that the couple is middle aged. And I love how she has a little extra weight and he is going gray. It makes the people that much more real, like the people that I've seen at the airport.

And that third stanza is incredible. It goes from just describing the couple to being something that we can all relate to, or at least dream of. Everyone wants to be looked at like the first sunrise seen from the earth. Everyone wants to think that, at least once, they were looked at that way. And that's why everyone is staring at the couple, trying to put themselves into her body. They want to be seen the way he sees her.

I like to assume that the poem is real. I'd like to think that things like that really do happen.

My Favorite part; Neither of them young. His beard was gray. She carried a few extra pounds but they kissed lavish kisses like the ocean in the early morning, the way it gathers and swells, sucking each rock under, swallowing it again and again.

Discribing this kiss by the two middle ago couple caught my attention most. I don't know, personally, any couple late in years, mantaining their relationship close to their hearts, let alone an intimate one. Though I assume this poem is fiction, for some reason, as I was reading it, it felt real.

What a wonderful poem!

But they kissed lavish
kisses like the ocean in the early morning,
the way it gathers and swells, sucking
each rock under, swallowing it
again and again.


I can see and hear and feel this kiss.

I totally love this poem! It's amazing--the narrator pulls back and tells us about this kiss, for two whole stanzas all there is is this amazing kiss and all the people who are watching it, and then--boom!--in the third stanza, we get this very emotional truth, we get to see maybe a piece of the person who is speaking:

as your mother must have looked at you, no matter
what happened after--if she beat you or left you or
you're lonely now--you once lay there, the vernix
not yet wiped off, and someone gazed at you
as if you were the first sunrise seen from the Earth

It's so unexpected, this opening up or going inward of the speaker. She makes us a part of that, too. So that we maybe remember what our mothers did to us, or how we are wounded emotionally. It's so well crafted. You never expect it so it lands a punch.

Did not expect to be moved on a Tuesday morning. Thanks!

I didn't understand the meaning of 'made it down from Annapurna' though.

Had to look it up too. Annapurna peaks are the 10th highest in the world, running through the Himalayas, and are among the most dangerous (fatality rate of 40%).

arms wrapped around each other
like he'd just staggered off the boat at Ellis Island,
like she'd been released at last from ICU, snapped
out of a coma, survived bone cancer, made it down
from Annapurna in only the clothes she was wearing.

This kiss is so celebratory that the poet has speculated that it's like the kiss that might happen if they'd done any of these extraordinary things. Annapurna's just part of the list.

Indeed it is a beautiful poem. I didn't understand the meaning of 'made it down from Annapurna' though.

I agree, Emily. It's a marvellous poem. I love that the word love is never mentioned yet its presence is there all through the poem. I love all the visual details, from the broad-band leather hat to the little gold hoop earrings. We know this couple. For us, they have become the face of love.

I don't know what it is, but something about this poem just gets me. I think it's the part in the last stanza about being seen like the first sunrise seen from the earth. I first read it as I was browsing through a poetry anthology in a bookstore. I read this one and it just caught my attention, so I thought I'd share.

Gate C22

At gate C22 in the Portland airport
a man in a broad-band leather hat kissed
a woman arriving from Orange County.
They kissed and kissed and kissed. Long after
the other passengers clicked the handles of their carry-ons
and wheeled briskly toward short-term parking,
the couple stood there, arms wrapped around each other
like he'd just staggered off the boat at Ellis Island,
like she'd been released at last from ICU, snapped
out of a coma, survived bone cancer, made it down
from Annapurna in only the clothes she was wearing.

Neither of them was young. His beard was gray.
She carried a few extra pounds you could imagine
her saying she had to lose. But they kissed lavish
kisses like the ocean in the early morning,
the way it gathers and swells, sucking
each rock under, swallowing it
again and again. We were all watching--
passengers waiting for the delayed flight
to San Jose, the stewardesses, the pilots,
the aproned woman icing Cinnabons, the man selling
sunglasses. We couldn't look away. We could
taste the kisses crushed in our mouths.

But the best part was his face. When he drew back
and looked at her, his smile soft with wonder, almost
as though he were a mother still open from giving birth,
as your mother must have looked at you, no matter
what happened after--if she beat you or left you or
you're lonely now--you once lay there, the vernix
not yet wiped off, and someone gazed at you
as if you were the first sunrise seen from the Earth.
The whole wing of the airport hushed,
all of us trying to slip into that woman's middle-aged body,
her plaid Bermuda shorts, sleeveless blouse, glasses,
little gold hoop earrings, tilting our heads up.